The More Things Change
by Sushi4Brains
Summary: A student learns at the knee of his teacher; some lessons are taught once and the student moves on. Other lessons must be learned again and again, over the knee of one's teacher. Yamato's a slow learner and Kakashi . . . well, he's duty bound to continue his instruction.
1. Chapter 1

First and foremost, hats off to my awesome beta, the one and only - Weeping Cadaver.

Before we begin, please know that **this story follows an extremely fractured timeline** and that means math is involved.

Kakashi: promoted to rank of jounin at age 13, assigned to ANBU under the Fourth Hokage's command at age 14. First met Tenzou when he was 16 years of age

They worked as a team for three years, making him 19 years of age. Twelve years passed since they were a team, making him 31 years of age for the purposes of this story.

Kinoe/Tenzou/Yamato: Age 13 when assigned to Kakashi's ANBU team, they worked as a team for three years (age 16). Twelve years have passed since their time in ANBU, making him 28 years of age for the purposes of this story.

Charred flesh . . . now there's a smell he never got accustomed to, yet the cloying scent of death muscled its way inside his porcelain mask, forcing him to accept its presence as it coated his nostrils and deposited an acrid film on his tongue. Squeezing his eyes shut, Yamato drew in another shallow breath and tried not to retch; it just wouldn't do to puke his guts out in front of the Hokage's desk.

Speaking of guts, his once spotless, steel grey breastplate, and other armament, was mottled with blood and other grotesque biologic matter that defied description; normally, that sort of thing was a badge of honor for the ANBU, something that signified a successful mission, but now it was just a vivid and smelly reminder of his colossal cockup. Stranger still, even the torrential downpour they'd run through wasn't enough to wash away the mess - yeah, that was gonna be loads of fun to scrape off later. His black woolen cloak concealed most of the gore splattered over his uniform and the gods only knew what else was clinging to that thing; it was heavier, itchier now and it smelled an old wet dog because of the rain, but what weighed him most was the overabundance of guilt and shame that almost made his knees buckle. He shivered slightly despite the warmth of the room, and as he did so, tiny water droplets slid down the curves of his stylized cat mask to join the growing puddle at his feet. For the briefest of moments, Yamato wanted to sink down into that wet patch on the floor and disappear without a trace; then again, running away, hiding from his mistakes had never been his style, so there he stood his arms by his sides, his bruised and bloodied fists clenched beneath the sodden cloak.

_Damn it . . . this whole thing was my fault. _

It was a routine intelligence gathering mission. The mission parameters specified only that they keep track of the enemy's movements near Konoha's heavily forested western border and relay that information to the Hokage. A straightforward mission . . . monotonous in its simplicity . . . boring as missions go; it was a supreme misuse of his skill and abilities, but the mission was designed primarily to reunite him with his former commander, and nothing was ever _routine_ when he was teamed with the man standing to his right. In a moment of unparalleled stupidity, he'd shamed himself and almost lost his life. Hidden from the watchful eye of his team leader, he'd plopped down behind a screen of tall wild grasses to rest; rest led to daydreaming and daydreaming turned into a nightmare. A momentary lapse of focus and before he realized the danger he was in, the enemy was upon him. Trapped in a compromising situation, unable to properly defend himself, his team leader was forced to engage the enemy, sparing Yamato's life in the process.

Once more, he closed his eyes and breathed in the sickening scents of failure and death. If his team leader were to make mention of his mistake, his days in ANBU would surely come to an end; even if it weren't mentioned in an official report, Yamato would never be allowed to forget what he'd done.

His conscience and his team leader would see to that.

As it had done when they were in the forest, his team leader's voice intruded on his thoughts and once more Yamato wanted to flee. But, there was nowhere to run from that man's pervasive presence, no hiding place from that libidinous, monotonous baritone which resonated in the stillness of the cave-like room, and in the depths of his being.

_Damn that man and his voice; that's what drove me to distraction in the first place._

He didn't need to open his eyes as his commander continued speaking, for he could mentally picture him standing there, gloating over his first kill of the mission, his white cloak splayed open and his chest puffed out fully displaying his gore covered uniform like a garish trophy.

_What a bastard; always did have a sadistic streak a mile wide in him._

The man to his right, rather the legend behind the porcelain dog mask, was none other than ANBU's Hound, one of Konoha's most elite assassins. Judging from the tone of his voice, Yamato could tell how proud Hound was of the bloody finger prints smeared across his armor, as well as the gouge of the enemy's katana above his hip and the seared bits of flesh that stuck to his breastplate. The slightly muffled voice behind the mask was chilling, its inflection never varying as he graphically described how they'd stalked and brought down the missing ninja . . .

_Wait . . . that wasn't how it happened! Why is he lying to the Hokage?_

He opened his eyes in time to see the spider's web of clotted blood hanging from the enemy's hitai-ate that Hound held in his claw-fingered glove and though the mask concealed it, Yamato knew there was a self-satisfied sneer on Hound's thin lips as he described the terror in the enemy's eyes right before he decapitated him. He could feel the unabated killing instinct reawakening in the man beside him as he recounted this grisly tale, which in turn reignited Yamato's urge to run away . . . to flee from Hound's murderously charismatic aura, the same aura that enthralled and likewise disgusted him.

Scratch that –it was his lack of restraint when it came to this particular man that frightened and disgusted him.

You see, within the ANBU, espionage, kidnapping, torture and assassinations were part and parcel of their everyday existence; in order to retain a semblance of humanity, certain coping mechanisms had to be developed. Some ANBU members became functional alcoholics; others practiced self-mutilation either to punish themselves for the horrific things their jobs required of them, or to feel something, anything other than the ever present numbness. Others found their sense of balance by engaging in risky sadomasochistic behavior, you know, the whole whips, chains, razor sharp kunai and hot candle wax scene.

None of these things appealed to Yamato.

Being of a more pragmatic nature, his way of coping was to spend his free time salvaging items from the junkyard that others deemed beyond repair; restoring them to full functionality or repurposing them to a new life of usefulness, that's what kept him sane. But over time, this 'hobby' of his began to color his interactions with society at large, and he found himself hopelessly attracted to 'damaged goods,' of the human variety; in his commanding officer, he found everything he wanted or needed in a dysfunctional relationship, all bundled together in a tidy, five foot eleven, psychotic package. Kakashi and 'Hound' always found new ways to keep him on his mental toes.

'Hound,' you see, was Hatake Kakashi's alter ego, a distinctly separate personality and he, rather **'it' **was the coping mechanism that kept Kakashi sane.

The homicidal rampages, the slaughter of innocent women and children, these were the things that delighted Hound and repulsed Kakashi. It was always an amazing spectacle to witness Kakashi's transition from one persona to the other; with each piece of ANBU armor that Kakashi donned, the man everyone thought they knew was swallowed up by Hound until he became the cold-hearted killing machine, the repository for every nightmarish act that had to be committed for the sake of security and peace for the Hidden Leaf village.

Kakashi himself was a unique amalgam of compassion and brutality - he was honest to the point of being cruel and yet, one of smoothest liars the gods ever permitted to walk this earth. A man who projected such a lazy, apathetic mien, all the while being completely alert and in control of whatever situation he found himself in; it was the exact opposite of the feline grace and unrestrained savagery that was exhibited hours before when Hound disemboweled, and incinerated the remains of their enemy before Yamato's shocked eyes.

But here's where things got twisted, as Kakashi's alter ego, Hound was far more intriguing and dangerously compelling; he was an entity that dwelt in a place of utter darkness, abject brokenness and death. And though Yamato found himself attracted to Kakashi because of his charm, his physical presence and dry sense of humor, it was Hound that captured his imagination and his heart.

That was always the weird thing because Yamato had never been physically or sexually attracted to any man, yet there were times when he felt as if he were being unfaithful to Kakashi because of his strong attraction to Hound. A ridiculous notion of course, seeing as he and Kakashi shared nothing more than a love for their village, and a desire to protect its people by any means necessary.

It was an obsession he'd learned to live with and something he thought he'd outgrown, that is . . . until this latest mission.

There was a squeal of protest from a humidity swollen casement and the warm, gentle breeze that carried the fragrance of more rain, jerked him out of his reflections when the Hokage cracked open a window behind her desk.

Suddenly, a brilliant white light ripped through the cobalt sky, illuminating the slumbering village as if it were midday; seconds later there was an ear shattering explosion and the floor beneath their feet trembled. The massive wall of windows behind the Hokage's desk rattled in their frames and dishes all over town probably shook behind closed cupboard doors.

But as quickly as it came, the curtain of darkness was again drawn tightly over the night sky.

And then, an angry red-orange fireball pierced the darkness as it blossomed over the electrical substation near the eastern edge of the village sending greyish black plumes of smoke, like arthritic fingers greedily reaching for the bright yellow moon. Six smaller explosions erupted in rapid succession and once more, darkness thick enough to be felt smothered the land.

One second …

. . . three seconds…

. . . five seconds

passed before the metallic cadence of an alarm sounded in the distance, summoning shinobi to their emergency stations.

Yamato's heart rose in his throat, and his sable brown eyes widened behind the narrow slits of his mask. At last, a legitimate reason to depart had literally come down from the heavens and with one word from the Hokage he could be far away from this confined space and even further away from _that _man. But it was not to be, for this was not an act of sabotage, but a random act of nature, an act against which, there was no defense. This mind-numbing debriefing took precedence over all else, he knew that and though his overtaxed muscles coiled in readiness, he dared not move from his place.

Still, it was difficult to concentrate on the matter at hand, for in the relative quiet beyond the windows, every sound was magnified tenfold in his ears.

There was the distinctive click of gears engaging the hospital's emergency generators a mile away - frantic voices issuing commands, a quarter mile away, and the sounds of sandaled feet sloshing through puddles in the streets beneath the Hokage Tower.

Despite the commotion outside, the man standing to his right continued his report as if nothing out of the ordinary was transpiring. That nonchalant tone of his rich voice floated through the stagnant air in the room, its timbre soothing, and somehow, aggravating at the same time.

Perhaps it was due to boredom, or maybe just plain old fatigue, but soon Yamato found himself daydreaming again, transfixed by the slow moving, wispy clouds above the rising smoke; as they drifted past the moon, their shadows painted a kaleidoscope of grey across the barren office walls.

Perhaps it was the after effects of a slow acting poison from the shuriken that grazed him earlier, but it felt as if his crudely field dressed wounds were throbbing in concert with the movement of the clouds.

_Nah, I'm imagining things_, he thought.

The crackle and hum of fluorescent lights above him tore him away from his hypochondria drenched thoughts, and as the lights grew stronger, banishing the shadows, he was left with a creepy-crawly sense of foreboding.

He'd spaced out long enough for Hound to have finished his report and now the Hokage was leaning back in her chair, staring directly at him, a slender, manicured index finger tapping at her bottom lip as she mulled over the information Hound provided. When finally she spoke, it was a mild rebuke intended for Hound, though her eyes never left Yamato's.

"I could have done without all the gory details Hound," she said. "And I would have preferred you brought the enemy back alive that we might have gained from him."

She shook her head, and folded creamy, toned arms beneath an ample bosom. "Nevertheless, Hound," she sighed, "I expect your full report on my desk by close of business tomorrow and don't skimp on the details justifying your actions."

"Consider it done, Hokage-sama," Hound replied with a cursory nod of his head.

The full weight of her amber eyes rested on Yamato and he felt himself stand a bit straighter while he tried to avoid direct eye contact with her.

_Crap! She's going to scold me because I wasn't paying attention. _

"I had some serious reservations about how well you two would work as a team after so many years apart," she said. "But you exceeded my expectations - for that I'll make sure you both share of the bounty that was on that missing ninja's head."

_Of course she had reservations about me and him working together; so did I_.

The foreboding he felt earlier made sense now. No doubt she'd studied their personnel files before handing out this assignment - she knew Yamato had pled with the previous Hokage for a transfer from Hound's command years ago. And she knew his request was honored but for reasons unrelated to his personal struggles.

Back then, he was young and confused about his feelings for his commander; he admired him of course, like any impressionable young man would, but his feelings went far beyond admiration.

Having seen first-hand how Hound and Kakashi dealt with clingy admirers, Yamato buried his feelings and strove to maintain a professional working relationship with his captain. He'd rather live with the knowledge Kakashi viewed him only as a subordinate and nothing more than suffer being completely shut out of Kakashi's life.

He'd already wasted too many nights alone in his bed with the image of that man and the sound of his damnable voice in his head, stirring up the cauldron of his arousal; he'd grown weary believing that somewhere under Hound's cold exterior there was a spark of mutual attraction - knowing full well Hound and Kakashi were incapable of returning his misplaced affections.

Over time however, it became patently clear that he couldn't handle the ultimate rejection … he opted instead to put space between them the only way he knew how.

That was water under the bridge now and as he mentally returned from his slight detour from days past, Yamato realized the Hokage had been watching him—intently. She was waiting for a hitch in his breathing or any small movement which signaled dissent while Hound spoke. Narrowed amber eyes searched his body language for inconsistencies in which would indicate signs of discontent or emotional duress.

Thankfully, his penchant for daydreaming kept him out of trouble. With his mind preoccupied with thoughts from the past, his body didn't have the opportunity to betray him - all the Hokage saw was a blank stare and a rigid carriage.

"…anything to add, Yamato?"

_Crap, I zoned out again!_

Hoping he hadn't missed anything important, Yamato hastily stuttered, "No ma'am. Hound's report covered everything."

Lady Tsunade's intense scrutiny didn't let up even when she leaned over to retrieve a flask and her favorite lavender colored sake cup from the open desk drawer beside her knee.

"Very well then," she said, measuring out a shot. "You're dismissed, now get the hell outta here – you're stinking up my office."

With the her dismissal, came a rush of blessed relief, he'd soon be free to return to the shadows. None however could set him free from his perfidious thoughts; he'd deal with those later, in the privacy of his own apartment.

But before he could form the hand signs for a transportation jutsu, a black gloved hand grabbed his wrist.

"Not so fast _Tenzou_," snapped Hound. "We need to hash out a few details before I turn in our final report."

_Bastard! That was the name he always used to keep me in my place, to remind me of the days of my feckless youth._

That name on Hound's lips also ignited yearnings – cravings which had lain dormant for years … now they were brought to the forefront when that cold, steel grey eye raked over him, looking right through him, choosing to see that which he could not hide.

Their point of physical contact, though small sent a spike of adrenaline rushing through his body; it was familiar, yet alien . . . fight or flight. Better judgment prevailed and Yamato silently cursed the years spent following orders without question.

It was all he could do to mutter, "Yes sir."

With their mission completed, the persona of Hound vanished as soon as the door to the Hokage's stuttered closed. Now, it was the full force of Kakashi's disapproving glare radiating through the dog mask - the intensity of that solitary grey orb provoked another shudder.

Diverting his eyes, Yamato refused to own up to the hold this man still held over him.

"What say we head over to central supply?" Kakashi dryly suggested. "We can get some regular uniforms and then hit the bathhouse in the civilian district."

There was a teasing lilt to his voice, one Yamato hadn't heard in years; it instantly set off an alarm bell in his head, even as it sent a jolt of electricity to his groin.

"We can have a hot meal," Kakashi continued, "my treat of course, and we'll have the privacy needed to discuss a 'critical' element of our mission."

_How well Yamato knew that there was no such thing as a free meal with this conniving man. _

A change of uniform would blunt Kakashi's harshness whenever he decided to cut him to ribbons; with a silver tongue and a crooked smile Kakashi would surely devour whatever was left of his subordinate's honor and dignity as a solider.

Yamato knew he was deserving of far worse. He was determined to endure the momentary indignity because it was highly unlikely they'd work together again after tonight.

TMTC TMTC TMTC

As they walked in silence down the winding hallway, Yamato let his mind drift in another direction—one which took him to a far away, better left forgotten chapter of his life.

It was almost twelve years ago, when as an awkward, cocksure youth without a lick of experience in covert operations, the legendary Hound was assigned as his team's leader. Rumors of Hound's prowess inspired respect and instilled fear amongst his enemies and comrades alike.

The moniker of 'Hound' suited the man for he was loyal to a fault – he'd willingly give his life to protect the village that owned him, and he seemingly derived a sick sense of pleasure in following the orders of his master to the letter. Like a bloodhound, he'd relentlessly track and pursue an enemy for days-weeks if necessary, fueled only by soldier pills and an ungodly thirst for blood.

"Whatever it takes to accomplish the mission, that I will do," was a credo both Kakashi and Hound lived by.

Whether Hound was an insane genius, or just insane, Yamato wasn't qualified to determine; one thing he was sure of was that Hound was a cold-hearted man, as efficient and deadly with his words as he was with his katana. His training methods were harsh as well - some even called them inhumane.

But there was always a well thought out rationale, a method if you will, to his presumed madness.

In spite of, or perhaps, it was because of Hound's barbed words of reproof and sparse words of praise, that Yamato soon was spurred on to do things he never thought possible. He weathered the rigorous training of his body and mind without hesitation, awed that a man such as Hound would deign to indoctrinate him into the life of an assassin.

Hound, just like Kakashi, was quick with a quip and brutally honest to the point of stripping away the remnants of a person's self-worth. Unlike Hound, Kakashi would actively sought him out to inquire after his well-being and to encourage his efforts. Perhaps that's why the callow youth he was then, revered the slender, deceptively powerful man. Yamato came to crave those all too rare words of commendation, and the seldom received pat on the back from Hound.

Determined to emulate his senpai, Yamato always fell short in his own estimation, giving another reason to push himself harder. He laughed inwardly, remembering a training exercise he devised long ago – he wanted to see how long he could spy on his senpai without being detected while he practiced his katas in the stillness of the deserted training grounds or while he sparred with fellow shinobi.

Kakashi's lithe body moved with the type of fluidity Yamato did not yet possess; he was envious at first, and over time he realized his fascination with Kakashi was breeding a skewered sense of possessiveness.

It was during those times that he fell under the charismatic influence of that man – his one goal become to please the staid Hound in whatever way he would have asked. blatant admiration in turn became infatuation; it was an obsession that led Yamato to question his own sanity and sexuality.

That's why he requested a transfer away from Kakashi. As it turned out, the Sandaime Hokage wanted Kakashi for a more important long term mission.

When word came down the pike that Kakashi was leaving the ranks of ANBU to become a jounin-sensei, there was a tremendous sense of loss; for his skills of course, but Yamato knew it was for the best.

And on this rainy night, twelve years later, he stood as a battle hardened, confident man in his own right; yet three days and nights spent in the company of Hound and he could feel himself reverting to that puerile state of mind, wanting once again to please and earn the respect of his mentor.

And for the first time in years, Yamato was locked in battle against the twin demons of lust and self-loathing.

-000-

Kakashi possessed an intimidating aura, even when he was lazing about naked as a jaybird, unarmed and as deadly as a nest of cockatrices. Through the rising steam, Yamato could make out the play of whipcord muscle in an arm casually draped over the bath's edge; sweat glistened enticingly on a broad chest littered with scars that was normally hidden by a bulky breastplate or flak vest. Well-shaped hands and fingers better suited to a piano's keyboard, were equally at home flicking away tiny waves in the bath as they were to ripping the windpipe from an enemy's throat.

He'd blame the spate of nervous laughter on the heat of the bath or the lack of sleep, but for whatever reason it tickled him that the silver spikes of Kakashi's hair which defied gravity under normal conditions, also shook their fists at humidity as well.

_Stop it!_ Yamato scolded himself, _thoughts like that are one of the reasons you're facing a dressing down tonight. The last thing I need to do now is piss him off or give him something else to tease me about._

Sinking down into the still, soothing water until his steady breaths made ripples beneath his nose, his proximity to Kakashi inspired a chill deep in his bones. And as Kakashi relaxed beside him with his head resting against the edge of bath, what could be seen of his face was reddened by the heat of the water.

From the other side of the room, a bath attendant informed them that their food was ready. Kakashi hoisted himself from the bath, wrapping a skimpy cotton towel around his waist as water sheeted down his body. Yamato's breath caught in his throat and he turned away when Kakashi teased him.

"Like what you see, Tenzou?"

The snappy comeback his mind prepared never made it past his lips; the tense set of his shoulders however, told Kakashi everything he needed to know.

TMTC TMTC TMTC

Dinner passed in silence, a mechanical parody of satisfying the body's need for refueling. After their hostess cleared away their empty plates, the growing knot of anxiety in Yamato's stomach threatened to present his barely chewed meal in a most embarrassing manner, but he swallowed hard, wishing to get past the reprimand that he might slink back to home and lick his wounds.

Kakashi chose not to look directly at his kohai, fiddling instead with the rim of his cup.

"You know that I already know what you did when you went off to do solo reconnaissance. It was selfish and extremely dangerous."

"Senpai . . . I'm sorry," he said as he bowed his head in contrition. "I . . . I don't know -"

"Unfortunately," Kakashi drawled, "our enemy had a sense of smell as finely tuned as mine." Raising the cup to his lips, he drained the small amount of sake remaining, slamming his cup down on the table.

"It was the scent of your spunk that gave away your location and damn near jeopardized the mission." He was staring directly at the crown of Yamato's head as he continued.

"Thank the gods that ass wipe was a missing ninja - his death won't cause a problem for the Leaf village." This time, he leaned closer to the table and shared:

"Don't get me wrong Tenzou. I enjoy a good yank myself now and again … but there's a time and place for everything."

What was worse? Knowing Kakashi knew his shame, or that his life may have ended because he didn't have the strength to resist his baser instincts?

That eerie sense of foreboding he'd felt in the Hokage's office returned with a vengeance – glancing up into Kakashi's uncovered face, he murmured a faint, "I'm very sorry sir."

"You know me, Tenzou. I'm not petty enough to include your stupidity in our official report, so don't trouble yourself about that."

There was an off-register lilt in Kakashi's voice which made him uncomfortable. In a flash, Yamato lifted his head seeing the anger blazing in Kakashi's eye when he issued this promise:

"Tonight, I'm going to help you remember how to conduct yourself appropriately."

It had been years since Yamato heard that particular tone of voice, yet it still carried the power to knock the wind out of him; it was a threat.

Senpai," he said hurriedly, "that won't be necessary. You have my word, that I'll never-"

"As my kohai … you will accept whatever discipline I deem necessary. End of discussion."

The frostiness of Kakashi's voice lowered the temperature in the room by a few degrees, and once again, Yamato was inwardly transformed into that uncertain youth of the past.

This was not only a threat, but a command - one he dared not refuse; it jangled against threadbare nerves, for you see,

Hatake Kakashi wasn't the type of man to issue empty threats.

NOTES:

A cockatrice was a legendary monster, part snake and part cock (male rooster), that was purported to kill a man with a single glance. Have to imagine that stumbling upon a nest of them wouldn't be pleasant.

MINOR SPOILER ALERT! When he first met Kakashi, his code name was Kinoe; he later adopted the name Tenzou, and at some point, the Fifth Hokage gave him the code name Yamato.


	2. Chapter 2

**The More They Stay The Same**

* * *

"_As my kohai, you will accept whatever discipline I deem necessary. End of discussion."_

Funny how the human mind works; in addition to randomly collecting, recording and filtering data, it also selectively eradicates that which might be harmful upon recollection. Conversely, it also holds fast to extraneous strings of data and accesses them when it's least convenient to make sense of the nonsensical. Funnier still is how one tiny word could obliterate the barrier between the boy Yamato was then and the man Yamato is now.

"_As my kohai, you will accept whatever _discipline_ I deem necessary. End of discussion."_

Discipline – Kakashi's discipline made him strong, sagacious, and decisive on the field of battle. Silence – Kakashi's silence filling the tiny room where they sat made him self-conscious, irrational and uncertain. Locked in such a tense atmosphere Yamato's brain was working overtime to fill the dead space where conversation should have been; supplying him with words his pride would not allow him to say and putting words in Kakashi's mouth that he did not wish to hear. And damn it all to hell, he couldn't shut off the stream of insignificant data flowing through his mind.

Discipline . . . its main objective was to instill compliance.

A code of conduct, a set of rules and regulations . . . discipline . . . these were the building blocks that established a hierarchy, a chain of command, a threefold cord of responsibility that preserved order in the military. Every shinobi worth his salt knew what was expected of them or what they could expect if they failed to adhere to the standards set before them.

"_As my _kohai_**,**__ you will accept whatever discipline I deem necessary. End of discussion."_

Senpai and kohai, master and student; these were the conventions of society which also dictated their behavior. Three years younger than his mentor, Yamato always held out hope that he and Kakashi would become more like brothers, establishing a bond of friendship and respect; for the most part, they did. In Kakashi he found a kindred soul, an unexpected ally; much to the surprise of his peers, Yamato had been granted access into the reclusive world of Hatake Kakashi . . . a major victory, one he didn't take lightly. ANBU's Hound on the other hand, always made certain Yamato understood and stayed in his place.

At last, the scattered pieces of the jigsaw puzzle came together when he realized that whatever happened in the next few hours hinged on which personality manifested to administer his punishment.

If it were, god forbid, Hound, his chastisement would be something ridiculous and extremely embarrassing, like the time he made him dress up as a geisha in full makeup and a flowing pink kimono to serve dinner and drinks to his ANBU teammates just because he'd neglected to pack his own supply of food pills. That was definitely a bought lesson. Kakashi on the other hand, favored a more traditional approach to correction . . . the physical type. Once when Yamato was still a rookie, Kakashi made him run laps around the village with a backpack full of wet cement until he puked, and then ten more laps around the village because he'd puked. Needless to say, he never forgot to carry enough kunai and shuriken with him after that episode. Looking back, he much preferred that sort of punishment versus the other ones Kakashi occasionally fell back on; the ones where he'd find himself draped across the other man's knee as the paddle or hairbrush fell without mercy or bent over a chair as the razor strop or tawse bit into his unprotected thighs and buttocks until hot, silent tears streamed down his face.

_No, those days are long gone_, he thought. _He wouldn't resort to such archaic methods to get his point across._

Knowing Kakashi better than most people did, he realized that the anticipation, the penetrating glances that ended with a lopsided grin – were small, yet powerful aspects of the man's modus operandi. Kakashi, the bastard, always did find it amusing to screw with his mind, drawing things out in order to trigger a reaction.

_I'll be dammed if I give him the satisfaction._

And so there he sat, cross legged, stone faced and tight lipped after having found the boldness to establish intermittent eye contact with his tormentor. Schooling his features into an unmovable façade was child's play; after all, the art of deception was second nature for a shinobi of his caliber. Disguising his body's autonomic responses however, required ingenuity; the sweaty palms he could lightly rest atop his knees, slow measured breaths would counteract his rapidly beating heart and the perspiration dotting his forehead could easily be attributed to stifling heat in the room. Meanwhile his mind was still sifting through random bits of information, readying a verbal defense for the inevitable confrontation.

The sounds of slippers, the rustling of silk in the hallway, and then a soft knock on the rice paper partition of their private dining area finally drew Yamato from his uncomfortable thoughts and it also turned Kakashi's laser focus from him. The smell of cheap perfume and high quality sake made both men turn as the door slid open revealing a rotund, elderly woman.

"Ah, so it is you Kakashi-kun," she said when she poked her head into the room. "No wonder my staff was all atwitter. May I come in?"

Kakashi respectfully nodded his head in acknowledgement, "Greetings Okami-san." With a sweep of his arm toward Yamato he hastened to add, "My kohai and I thank you for hosting us at such a late hour."

To the untrained eye, this was nothing more than a gracious exchange of pleasantries; but Yamato knew something else was going on beneath the surface. For starters, Kakashi never made a move to cover the lower half of his face when the old lady knocked on the door. While the man wasn't shy when it came to showing off his unclothed body, he was very particular, almost paranoid about revealing the entirety of his face; obviously Kakashi knew the woman quite well and more importantly, he trusted her. Something else that bothered him was the fact this old woman was no ordinary civilian; though age slowed her movements, she carried herself with a confidence and no-nonsense air akin to that of a skilled kunoichi; perhaps that's why Kakashi seemed at ease in her presence.

Peering around the old lady's bowed form, Yamato was able to see two younger women kneeling beside the door; these two were definitely civilians. No matter how hard they tried to appear demure, their manner of dress labeled them as prostitutes, and he wanted no part of that action. Though he wasn't a stranger to working off the tension of a mission with whatever whore he could find, he certainly didn't want to get freaky in the presence of his senpai. Embarrassed for their sakes as well as his own, there wasn't a damn thing he could do to hide the warm blush spreading over his cheeks; knowing that Kakashi was eyeing him from across the lacquered table made that warmth a thousand times hotter.

The old woman finally made her way to their table with an uncorked bottle of sake and a slight smile on her lips. "Should you require additional assistance," she said with a wink, "the ladies in the hall would count it a privilege to cater to your . . . 'other' needs."

Yamato almost gave himself whiplash when he turned to gauge Kakashi's reaction to the old woman's proposal. Even without the mask, Kakashi was an extremely difficult man to read; his handsome face was a blank slate and only the gods knew what devious plan he had up his sleeve. There came a soft chuckle from the other side of the table, one that bespoke mischief in the making. "As usual," Kakashi said when he turned to acknowledge the smiling young women, "you've thought of everything, haven't you?"

Setting the sake bottle on the table nearest Kakashi, she laughed and said, "Only the very best for those who keep us safe." With a hitch of her thumb in Yamato's direction she added, "Besides, this one here looks like he could use some additional relaxation." Well, the 'ladies' in the hall seemed to think that was comical as they coyly tittered and pointed at the now furiously blushing man. Kakashi of course, was laughing his ass off and Yamato felt himself bristling when both his senpai and the old lady locked their concerned eyes on him.

Kakashi was smirking at him now though he directed his comments to the smiling old woman. "Not to worry," he said with a smirk. "Tenzou always looks tense. I dare say even the combined skills of these young ladies wouldn't be enough to make him relax; although I wouldn't mind being the recipient of their full attention."

As their hearty laughter slowly died down, what was really going on finally clicked in Yamato's mind. _So that's his game is it? To make me watch while he cavorts around and has sex with these two whores? It would be just like him to twist the knife in my gut . . . bastard._

Wiping at his eye with the back of his hand, Kakashi went on to say, "Thank you for selecting two of your most skilled masseurs to attend to us and though we appreciate your hospitality and discretion, we were just about to call it a night. Isn't that right Tenzou?"

Yamato's eyes flickered between Kakashi and the woman he'd mistakenly thought of as a whorehouse madam. "Thank you for your hospitality ma'am," he mumbled.

With a snap of her fingers, the young women in the hall women dismissed themselves. "As you wish, shinobi-san," she said when she turned to leave.

Once the door slid shut, Kakashi stretched himself like a contented cat lying in a beam of sunshine. "Well," he said with a yawn, "we'd better get moving, it's getting late."

-000-

It was short walk from their dining area to the communal changing room but Yamato felt like a condemned man walking a ten mile road to the gallows. Though he knew the bathhouse had no other customers, it seemed as if a million people were hiding in the woodwork, laughing and jeering as he followed behind his senpai.

_Post mission jitters_, Yamato thought, _you're imagining things,_ as the hairs on his neck stood at attention.

Outside, the pitter patter of fat raindrops sounded like tiny detonations against the tile roof of the building; inside the spacious changing room, the backlit clock on the wall counted down the seconds until whatever 'discipline' his superior officer had devised would be carried out. Tick . . . Tock . . . Tick. His light blue yukata, so soft against his skin earlier, chafed at him now like a twilled cotton straightjacket. Tick . . . Tock . . . Tick. Standing with his back to the other man, he determined to put an end to this childish game of cat and mouse; he'd had it up to his back teeth being torn between the need for his guilt to be expunged and the greater need to stand up to his senpai. Tick . . . Tock . . . Boom!

Wheeling around to confront his mentor, his face flushed with anger, and his breathing sharp, he was momentarily taken aback to discover Kakashi was already dressed and leaning against his own locker with his arms folded across his chest. It was that relaxed, 'devil-may-care' pose that really pissed him off.

"Damn it Kakashi," he heard himself roar, "I'm not some wet behind the ears little punk you can just –"

Between one breath and the next, Yamato found himself pressed against the cold steel of the locker behind him; Kakashi, or was that . . . Hound's uncovered face was a hairsbreadth from his own. "Ah, there's the fire I've been waiting to see," he whispered. When a slender hand reached out to chuckle under his chin, the back of Yamato's head collided with unyielding metal as he attempted to move away.

"I'll caution you this but once Tenzou," he warned. "It's a bad idea to let your emotions write a check your ass can't cash." That sinewy body pressed against his and Kakashi dipped his head to nuzzle against his neck; the warm breath ghosting over his exposed skin, the hardness brushing across his thigh unleashed a full body shudder. It wasn't fear that made him suck in a deep breath without a second thought, inhaling the clean, musky scent of the man pressed up against him; oh hell no, this raw carnality, with a double portion of craven, wanton, lust. It didn't help matters much when Kakashi palmed his erection through the thin cotton fabric either.

"Let's finish this . . ." that low, sultry voice whispered, "somewhere more . . . private, shall we?"

Yamato couldn't bring himself to speak, too incoherent to even nod his head as his mind presented and discarded a plethora of evasive maneuvers. And knowing Kakashi as he did, he would have already figured out fifty two ways to thwart any feeble escape attempts.

_Damn it all to hell, Yamato most definitely didn't want to flee this time._

-000-

He scarcely remembered how or when they arrived at Kakashi's home. All he knew was that he was standing in the middle of Kakashi's dimly lit living room, while the other man slowly undressed him. Kakashi had never before done something this intimate and it confused him greatly, even as it fiercely turned him on. The rough cotton material of his new uniform scratched at his sensitized skin as it was gently pulled from his arms and familiar, warm chakra tickled him as his wounds from earlier were gently healed. He felt Kakashi slide down his body and all he could see was a mop of silver hair and broad shoulders covered in navy blue fabric as warm hands removed the bindings on his legs; his pants disappeared without his knowledge and thin lips were kissing their way upward . . . one leg and then the other.

Of course, Kakashi completely ignored the hardness pressing against suddenly too tight standard issue cotton briefs.

Those warm hands were moving again, cupping and squeezing his buttocks as he kept those lips of his moving ever upward, searching out and finding the sensitive area around his navel; in a flash, his underwear vanished, likely joining the pile where his pants and shirt lay. The wet tip of Kakashi's tongue flicked over a nipple, as calloused finger pads tweaked and rolled the other one. Once more warm breath tickled at his neck, and those roving hands stopped to rest on smooth nether cheeks.

"Close your eyes Tenzou," Kakashi finally said, rubbing the tip of his nose against Yamato's earlobe. "I've got a surprise for you."

He did as he was instructed, and the warmth of Kakashi's body was gone; he stretched out his senses to feel where Kakashi had run off to, but it was of no avail. Then came the sound of something heavy being dragged across the hardwood floor; Yamato didn't need to open his eyes to know that it was the dreaded straight backed chair being moved into place.

And then, there was silence.

TBC . . .

NOTE:

'Okami-san' is a formal way of addressing women who own such businesses.


	3. Bubble Bubble Toil and So Much Trouble

What need was there for words when one action spoke volumes?

With the appearance of the old wooden chair, Yamato's fate was sealed and time stood still.

In the silence there came reprieve . . . a time to prepare for what was to follow, a time to hope for a last minute stay of execution he knew would never come. In the silence there also came assurance . . . once Kakashi dealt with him, the slate would be wiped clean, his sins would be forgiven and Yamato could return to his pedestrian life . . . away from Kakashi. One last gift the silence bestowed - justifiable apprehension, for you see, Kakashi was the type of person who lived to defy the expectations of others; always straightforward in his speech, yet wildly unpredictable in his actions.

As if the past eighty two hours weren't proof of that.

Four days and three nights spent with Hound's dispassionate presence and murderous intensity . . . three hours at the bathhouse spent working around Kakashi's physical distance and then the sudden, sensually threatening closeness, and less than an hour ago, it was the concern that was shown in the healing his wounds; while it wasn't unusual for Kakashi to tend to an injured comrade when necessary, it was the sincerity behind those gentle touches and teasing kisses that rendered Yamato speechless and horny.

It was definitely a first for in all the years he'd worked alongside Kakashi, the only time his captain laid a hand on him was either to push him out of harm's way or to punish him like a willful child.

This entire evening Yamato felt rather like he'd been sucked up into a cyclone; a mad whirl of words and stormy silences pulled him in one direction and snatched him the opposite way before he could get his bearings. But this was how Kakashi always operated - it was his unconventional way to decompress after a tedious mission. He knew all too well that a psyche as fragmented as Kakashi's needed a single object upon which to project its inner turmoil . . . something or someone to act as a retaining wall to keep two, very powerful personas separated. To accomplish this, it wasn't unusual for Kakashi to bury his head in a book for hours on end, shutting out everything and everyone around him and when that wasn't enough, he'd seek out a gullible comrade like him or Gai to tinker with their minds or to scrounge up a free meal.

Over the years, Yamato came to see these relatively harmless activities as another quirk of his captain's personality which made it easier to put up with Kakashi's rare moments of playful silliness or Hound's even rarer displays of genuine remorse.

But tonight, Kakashi had obviously reached a new level of incongruity and the wrong word at the wrong time might set free the wrong personality to deal with him in this very vulnerable state.

He should have been scared witless, but minute by agonizing minute his anxiety transmuted into a sluggish, gurgling resentment.

Gone were the days when everything Kakashi said and did was taken as gospel truth; the time had passed when every move Hound made was met with open mouthed, wide eyed wonder. He'd stepped out of Kakashi's shadow and stood up from under Hound's thumb years ago and Kakashi's blatant refusal to accept that fact was not only irritating, it was downright disrespectful.

And just like that, the fire Kakashi was so pleased to see earlier was burning afresh within him and the lingering silences intended to intimidate him would become the anvil upon which his anger was forged.

_Let's just get this over with you eccentric bastard!_

Eccentric . . . that was a label applied to those too rich, too powerful or too mysterious to be called crazy to their faces; Kakashi was all these things and as twisted as they came. Still, the man had a way about him, a charm that could deflate anyone's anger faster than a straight pin to a balloon. It oozed from his pores like a charlatan's elixir, insinuating itself as a cure for whatever affliction beset him. In truth Kakashi's allure was like an illicit drug which addicted body and soul, sharpening the craving for more and more of his whispered promises and lies.

And the longer he stood in the center of Kakashi's home, the harder it was to maintain the edge on his newfound anger; for you see, Yamato was like a junkie, fresh out of rehab and being offered one more fix.

-0000-

Kakashi's inner sanctum was one of those places everyone wanted to see, but only a few were granted access into this bastion of peace against the clamor of battle and the hushed murmurs of polite society. But for all the privilege access provided, to Yamato this was a place he'd forever associate with the pain of correction and the agony of unrequited desire. A place where the smell of over ripened fruit sitting on the kitchen table and the scent of the woods on a warm summer's day mixed together, undulating in a hypnotic dance which instantly transported him back to the last time he'd stood here.

In his mind's eye, he could see himself as that sixteen year old boy standing in the same spot . . . unarmed, unclothed and trembling as his nineteen year old commander scolded him from his seat on the old wooden chair; he could feel the warmth from the other man's body as he stretched himself across those strong thighs in preparation for punishment. He could hear himself softly sobbing as the narrow paddle fell again and again . . . pitiless wood against tender reddening flesh that always brought him to an embarrassingly emotional release. And as those memories wound themselves through his mind, Yamato felt that same itchy, tingling sensation flapping around in the pit of his stomach that made the rest of his body ache for Kakashi's touch . . .

With a slight shake of his head, he squeezed his eyes shut tighter. _ I can't afford to let myself go back to that place!_

He came to his senses slowly only to discover what initially felt like a roughhewn gorge a trillion miles wide between him and Kakashi was approximately ten inches of empty space by his reckoning, but something else had drastically changed. In the moments since his disappearance and return, the very atmosphere around Kakashi was unsettled and brittle in its coldness.

_By the gods, this is exactly the way Hound approaches a mission; deadly silent, emotionally detached and barbarous._

The temptation to crack open an eyelid without permission was overwhelming, taking every ounce of willpower he had not to succumb. Somehow, the idea that Hound was the one scrutinizing his nakedness was extremely terrifying yet inappropriately arousing; the arms held loosely at his sides, flew forward to hide a spontaneous erection, knowing all the while that nothing escaped the other man's notice.

Once more he felt as if he were walking a tightrope, blindfolded and hogtied, high above a moat filled with hungry piranha; one false move and he'd be ripped to shreds . . . and then there came a blast of hot air, like that from a furnace; it seemed to push him forward, though knew he hadn't moved an inch.

"_You're trapped in an illusion," _his mind pointed out. "_This isn't real!_ _Snap out of it!"_

_That's right, direct eye contact with a Sharingan user was necessary to invoke a genjutsu and the only time it was uncovered was when I confronted Kakashi in the changing room of the bathhouse. _

Muddled as his thoughts were back then, what with Kakashi's body pressed against his, Yamato couldn't remember whether he'd looked directly into the damn thing or not. Still, he felt it would have been a reckless waste of energy to use such a powerful tool against a comrade for something this trivial, especially since he'd been cooperative up until now.

Then again, maybe it was Kakashi's 'bass ackward' way of acknowledging his growth; a warped way to amplify the anticipation.

Regardless of the motive, the most important thing right now was figuring out a way to short circuit the flow of his chakra to circumvent the jutsu.

And just when he'd gained a measure of control over his faculties, Kakashi spoke:

"Open your eyes Tenzou."

That smoky voice wrapped itself around him like liquid silk, drawing him closer, inescapably binding him to the one who'd pronounced his judgment . . . the one who stood ready to carry it out.

Heavy eyelids snapped open, wanting to take in the expression on Kakashi's face, yet fearing what he might see when he slowly lifted his head. Bare feet stood beside one of the chair's sturdy legs . . . Kakashi's shins were still bound with crisp white bandages, his navy blue uniform pants and shirt looked as if they'd been tailored to accentuate his willowy frame. As expected, Kakashi's broad hands and slender fingers were free of the leather gloves he usually wore and they were gripped tightly around a large, wide mahogany box he held in front of his body like a present. Finally, there was Kakashi's face . . . clean shaven, ruggedly handsome with a devilish grin on his lips and the Sharingan concealed behind an eye patch made of dark blue fabric . . .

_Hold on a minute! If my eyes were closed this entire time and the Sharingan was hidden, it would have been impossible for him to capture and hold me in a genjutsu. _

Refusing to believe the disjointed thoughts and phantom sensations he'd felt earlier were products of his own imagination, Yamato chose to focus instead on the box Kakashi held.

That choice proved itself as a huge mistake.

He should have stayed trapped inside the world of illusion . . . a world where his deepest secrets and memories provided a pleasant diversion, but what that box contained was reality, a relic from his past . . . a past he'd be revisiting all too soon. Chewing at the inside of his cheek kept him from saying something stupid and once more he lowered his head in shame.

"Ah, I see you remember our little box . . . and its purpose," Kakashi said. "Shall I also assume you know what comes next, Tenzou?"

A slow, guilty nod was all Yamato had the capacity to give; it was as if the sight of that innocuous brown box sapped his remaining strength.

If he lived for a thousand years he'd never forget what those four scraps of wood held, or the ritual it came to represent. You see, for every year spent under Kakashi's command, a new implement was added to mark the occasion after it had been properly 'broken in,' of course. All told, the box contained five paddles of various lengths, widths and weights, two leather straps, one thick, the other thin; one razor strop, three tawses (one with two tails, the other with three tails and the last with four tails), and one wickedly effective hairbrush. He could hear the swish of starched fabric as one leg brushed against the other when Kakashi moved to take his seat and then there was the sound of heavy wood settling against wood when Kakashi set the box beside him on the floor.

The time for absolution was upon him; the pain of atonement was nigh.

"You already know _how_ I'm going to punish you," Kakashi said when he settled into the chair.

Yamato lifted his head just as Kakashi leaned to his left; the sound of metal scraping against metal filled the quiet space when the clasps holding the lid of the box were snapped open; the sight of blood red silk cradling each implement, the same color his bottom and thighs would be when this was all over, made his cock twitch.

_What the hell is the matter with me?_

"Now that I have your full attention," Kakashi said, "Tell me _why_ I need to punish you Tenzou."

Damn, this was the part he hated worse than the sting of any implement contained in that stupid box. His throat felt like the desert during a violent sandstorm, and he simply could not bring himself to speak. He wasn't purposely being rebellious mind you, nor was he was afraid to confess his wrongdoing. No . . . his reticence had more to do with a presence slowly approaching behind him.

Another rush of heat accompanied by the sound of footsteps, heavy and ominous; whatever was approaching from behind him was huge, sinister and electrically charged; the fine hairs from the back of his legs to the nape of his neck reached out like metal filings to a magnet. Without warning, something firm and leathery pressed itself between his shoulder blades tracing a heated path down his spine. His eyes flew to Kakashi sitting there nonplussed on his throne of judgment giving no indication that something was amiss.

Quickly looking to his right, Yamato came face-to-mask with ANBU's Hound.

_Good god in heaven . . . I must be losing my mind!_

As the last bits of color retreated from his cheeks, Hound moved closer to stand beside him; his untamed silver hair spilled over the left side of the mask . . . the white cloak, Hound's mantle of authority, was draped over his broad shoulders, and the gray breastplate he wore was meticulously clean. Brushed silver gauntlets on his forearms overlaid elbow length black leather gloves; the skintight black uniform, and the general aura of hostility he wore like a second skin, were making Yamato lightheaded with fear when the man stepped closer to growl,

"Yes . . . tell _us _why you should be punished."

If Hound said anything else after that, Yamato missed it entirely, given the sound of his own rapid heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"_Breathe . . . just breathe_," he told himself. "_This is just Kakashi's way of toying with you, he's trying to freak you out."_

Out of the blue, an edict he learned in ANBU popped into his head which stated, "**There is no greater fool than he who believes what his eyes see, what his ears hear, and how his body reacts."**

It suddenly dawned on him, one of these 'men' had to be a shadow clone, but which one?

As soon as his eyes stopped darting between the smug man seated before him and the glowering man standing by his side, his body reacted faster than his mind could and Yamato took a half step backward. In hindsight, that was the wrong course of action because Hound grabbed his right arm in a vise like grip and jerked him toward Kakashi.

His breath came in spurts as he tried to regain his footing. "Kakashi?" "Hound-san?" "What the . . . why are you . . . what the hell is going on here?"

There came a grunt of disdain from 'Hound' and a light chuckle from 'Kakashi' before he heard the man in the chair say, "Oh, don't mind him Tenzou. Hound insisted on being here to oversee your punishment and I just couldn't refuse."

"Damn right," Hound said when he released his arm. "Kakashi was always much too lenient with you."

Stepping closer, Hound and all his menacing darkness completely obstructed his view; a chilly breastplate momentarily pressed against his bare chest as Hound roughly slapped away the hands hiding a straining erection.

"If I feel he's holding back on you this time," whispered Hound as his gloved hand stretched around Yamato's throat, "I'm going to step in and make damn sure this is one lesson you won't soon forget."

_Holy crap! This was another first . . . a decidedly unpleasant one. Never before had Hound made a physical appearance during one of their ritualized punishment sessions, so why would Kakashi allow it to happen now?_

As Hound dragged his fingers down his quivering chest and past his navel, all coherent thought fled from Yamato's mind; when a smooth calfskin leather palm cupped his balls, there was a manly gasp of surprise a split second before his mind went totally blank.

"Well, well," said Hound as he applied pressure around Yamato's hefty handful, "it looks like your little kohai has finally grown a pair Kakashi."

A final squeeze, not enough to cause pain, but one clearly designed to tantalize, and then Hound abruptly turned and walked away. The hem of his cloak brushed against Yamato's midsection ... the scratch of soft wool was more like sharp claws glancing across the shaft of his cock; Yamato's eyes fluttered closed and his entire body shuddered violently .

Striding over to take his place near the unopened box, Hound folded his arms over his breastplate. "Let's get this show on the road" he snapped.

When next Yamato opened his eyes, there sat a clearly bemused Kakashi with a look of expectancy in his eye; the masked man beside him stood ramrod straight, primed to swoop down on him should he incorrectly bat an eyelash.

In that instant, one of the craziest ideas ever took shape in Yamato's mind; _teamwork,_ it was concept both Kakashi and Hound heartily espoused and both personalities had zero tolerance for those who could not or would not work well together. If he were able to pit one personality against the other it would surely force the dissipation of the shadow clone, leaving him at the mercy of the other.

Groveling would only stroke Hound's ego, yet it would stir Kakashi's heart to empathy.

"You didn't answer my question," Kakashi said. "Shall I repeat it for you Tenzou?"

There was that patronizing tone in his voice, the one that normally triggered an exaggerated eye roll, but this time it was met with a glimmer of optimism. The longer he could keep Kakashi talking, the better his chances that Hound would be muzzled.

"No sir," he meekly replied, "that won't be necessary. I'm sorry, I made a stupid mistake that compromised our position and could have gotten us killed."

The joints in the floorboards sharply met his kneecaps when he pitched himself forward . . . his forehead, kept inches from the pockmarked wooden surface when his clammy palms slapped against it. Overkill perhaps, but he no longer cared whether Hound or Kakashi knew how nervous he truly was.

"I allowed myself to get distracted," he hurriedly said. The tips of his brown hair agitated a thin layer of dust beneath him when he bowed lower; grit and dog hair flavored the powdery substance in his mouth when he whispered, "Please, forgive me sirs."

Again, there was silence.

He couldn't see what was going on around him but he could sense that Kakashi and Hound were exchanging heated looks; Kakashi was likely moved with compassion, while Hound was probably glaring darkly, silently egging Kakashi on to finish what they'd started.

Through the floorboards, Yamato could feel the heat of rising impatience but from whom, he could not tell.

It was Hound who spoke.

"Forgiveness is granted only after truth is confessed."

_Truth_, it was a burden made heavier each year he held onto it, suppressed it, and denied it; were he to utter the truth aloud, it would be his ticket to freedom though it would sever once and for all the bond he'd built with Kakashi. Truth, were he to whisper it, would repulse Kakashi as surely as it would infuriate Hound.

_No . . . that's not a chance I'm not willing to take!_

"Please sir, I screwed up . . . and for my mistake, I'll gladly accept the consequences-"

"Oh, yes," was Kakashi's cold response, "you will accept the consequences, Tenzou . . . gladly or otherwise."

The old chair creaked when Kakashi leaned forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. "Now, look at me . . . tell me what was so important that it took your mind off the mission."

There was no way in hell he'd able to look up now for his eyes would betray whatever lies his lips would tell. "Please sir, I'd rather not say."

The sound of sandaled feet approached from his blind side and then Hound's ominous presence hovered over him; a heavy palm slapped down and grabbed hold of his hair, yanking his head and torso upright.

"You're testing my limited patience boy," hissed an angered Hound. "Answer his question damn you!"

Through the pain, all Yamato could see was Kakashi, his forearms resting on his thighs as he leaned forward. "You're making this harder than it needs to be Tenzou," he said.

The fingers entwined in his hair tensed, this time jerking his body backwards until his head rested against a muscular thigh. Hound leaned over to say, "You've got five seconds to tell him the truth . . . or I will."

White hot anger sent whatever sense of self-preservation Yamato had left running for cover and before he realized what he was doing, he'd already reached up to free himself from Hound's grip.

"Let go of me, you bastard!" Rocking his head backward as hard as this position allowed him to, Yamato glared directly through the narrow slits of his captor's mask as he spat out these last words:

"Enough! Release the jutsu! I've had my fill of your games for one night!"

Astounded when Hound freed him, Yamato was completely unprepared to brace himself when a bony knee forced itself between his shoulder blades, pressing him down until his forehead smashed against the floor.

"Foolish little boy," he heard him say. "You're in no position to make demands."

Before he could catch his breath, Hound's weight shifted and the hand that once painfully tugged at his hair was now wrapped around the nape of his neck as he was crudely hefted to his feet. Shoved forward until he stood at his captain's right side, it was hard to miss the look of pity in Kakashi's dark gray eye right before he felt himself being pushed across the waiting lap.

The next thing he saw was a pair of sandaled feet standing on either side of the open box of implements.

"We'll get the truth out of you," said Hound, "one way or the other."

The heavy weight of Kakashi's forearm fell across the small of his back and warm fingers curled themselves under the top portion of his thigh. "Have to admit I'm disappointed," Kakashi quietly said. "Tenzou . . . you of all people should know better than trying to make me turn on myself."

An inordinately pleased Hound barked out a laugh that sent chills down his spine; Yamato knew that laugh . . . it was the one Hound favored whenever he stood over a vanquished enemy.

"I gave you an opportunity to tell us the truth," Hound finally said.

And as a leather gloved hand reached down to pick up the hairbrush right under Yamato's nose, the man behind the porcelain mask laughed again when he said:

"You squandered your chance.

And now . . . it's my turn."

NOTE:

Title lifted from act one, scene one of William Shakespeare's Macbeth; not to worry, he and I go way back and he's cool with it.


	4. Double Trouble

Sexual fantasies . . . organic byproducts of intelligent design, powerful images and sensations which could be retained and retrieved in an instant, whenever the physiological or psychological needs of the body demanded a sophisticated form of gratification that masturbation alone could not.

Sexual fantasies . . . forbidden forays into another dimension, another world where the unattainable object of one's desires could be possessed, manipulated to do or say things completely out of character, wildly uninhibited and utterly taboo in real life.

Sexual fantasies . . . the gateway into a hedonistic wonderland of delights, a safe haven in which to indulge and repeatedly satisfy one's unspoken urges and unfulfilled needs.

Sexual fantasies . . . these were the things which made the sojourn from puberty to adulthood hellish.

You see, Yamato had spent the better part of his life underground, hidden away from the general public, training night and day to become a weapon for his village's defense. Weapons did not need emotions, for nothing else mattered except accomplishing the assigned mission; weapons, like Yamato did not need or deserve a proper name or title, for his identity lay only in seeing the mission through to completion. It was a way of life, one he never asked for and never fit into; constantly ridiculed for being too soft-hearted or punished because of his underdeveloped lust for blood.

For his entire life, Tenzou as he called back then, was surrounded by much older, far wiser and exceptionally powerful figures of masculine authority; he admired, feared and strove to emulate them, that he might find acceptance among them . . . knowing all the while he could never become like them.

Daydreams became shields which deflected the rude stares and comments, and nighttime fantasies provided an outlet for his frustrations. Along came puberty with its rapid changes in body and mind; a sloppy mix of hormones, angst and a new way to quietly rebel against that which he was powerless to change. . . sexual fantasies.

Right smack in the middle of all this upheaval . . . that's when he met Kakashi Hatake.

A mere slip of a man-child himself, tall and spindly, with a shock of silvery hair that made him seem older than he actually was, the lower half of his face concealed behind a fabric mask, and weird, captivating eyes, one grey, the other blood red; but there was so much more beyond his oddly striking outward appearance. Kakashi was also a weapon, an accomplished shinobi, a confident and capable leader . . . an anomaly. He obeyed his orders, yet he was unafraid to speak his mind and follow his own path, which earned the respect of his elders, grudging though it was.

And unlike countless others, Kakashi refused to treat him as just another weapon . . . but as a person; Kakashi it seemed genuinely enjoyed Tenzou's company and not just endured his presence for the sake of completing a mission. Kakashi gave him something that changed his life . . . a sense of self-worth as Yamato came to see the world and himself through Kakashi's eyes. An unlikely kinship, a bond of trust developed between these two misfits; one a loner by choice, the other a loner by circumstance.

And then . . . there was Hound.

That was another side of Kakashi that he'd come to accept, understanding all too well the necessity for Hound's existence. The darkness that was Hound, called out to something deep within Tenzou, connecting with and drawing forth emotions that had lain dormant for years. Tenzou desperately wanted to bring Kakashi/Hound back from the abyss, to shore up whatever was lacking in the other young man, to be an anchor for the one who'd rescued him.

It was this unusual dynamic which brought them great success on the field of battle; this strange, symbiotic relationship would ultimately force Yamato to part company, to cut his losses with the man who'd taught him to know and trust himself.

In all the years spent away from Kakashi, life experiences and maturity wrought self-control in the man formerly known as Tenzou; gone were the days when he'd been a slave to his lustful needs, the insistent demands of his flesh. He'd come to see his daydreams and sexual fantasies for what they were, a means to relieve the stresses of shinobi life . . . nothing more.

All the years of lying to himself came to a head the moment he crossed the threshold into Kakashi's home, where the embodiment of the improbable, the realization of the impossible stared him in the face and laughed at his fragility. Here in this place where the depths of his most shameful thoughts could be shifted through, pilfered and openly displayed before the eyes of the one man he'd idolized . . . he regressed to the easily embarrassed, unsure Tenzou of days gone by.

Ah, yes for all the benefits daydreams and sexual fantasies afforded, this was one of the reasons why sexual fantasies should forever remain locked up, sequestered in the space between one's ears; never to come to pass whether by suggestion, coercion, or shaman's incantation.

For starters, reality could never match what the mind can envision . . . well, usually.

Nevertheless, the twin elements of timing and control are what made fantasies enthralling and rewarding; how fast or slow the action progressed, how fleeting or lingering the kisses, when or where a pinch, a touch, can and should be given or received. Moments of pleasure that could be drawn out, paused, rewound or replayed as often as one's stamina permitted . . . yes, these were the elements which could turn random strings of ideas and images into experiences that could alter one's religion. Yet, the same two elements of timing and control when taken out of their proper context or otherwise warped by the intrusion of reality, could wreak havoc on one's psyche.

Sexual fantasies . . . a double-edged sword.

Yamato's world of private pleasures had been compromised, complicated and destabilized by the not particularly unwelcome element of . . . surprise.

Hound's physical manifestation in all his armor clad glory, had been a shock to Yamato's system to say the very least. With his visage obscured by the dog's mask, the faintly familiar smell of old blood and weapon oil that clung to his clothing, hair and skin . . . his demeanor hostile as usual and that voice . . . so clear and commanding, it was a favorite sexual fantasy come to life. Juxtaposing Hound's image and persona against the warmth of Kakashi's body, his bare face providing no clues about the thoughts running through his mind, the fragrances of cedar and clove oils that still clung to his skin hours after the bath; the soothing weight of a cloth covered forearm casually draped over Yamato's naked, quivering back . . . by the gods this was far beyond anything he'd ever dared imagine!

It was ironic too, for whenever Yamato's imagination ran wild, it would selectively fixate either on Kakashi or Hound, never both at once for fear his mind might implode or his body might give out if bombarded with that type of stimuli.

But this . . . this corporeal actuality was the icing on the cupcake of every indecent thought Yamato had since the dawn of puberty; here he was, in a threesome of sorts, caught up between and captivated by these two compelling personalities, wanting to yield himself to both, yet scared to death of what his or their reactions would be should he be forced to choose between them.

If he made out of this house tonight, mentally unscathed, not only would it be a miracle, but this episode would definitely occupy a place of honor in the archives of his memories.

Without meaning to, Yamato's eyes slid shut when he recalled the initial awkwardness he felt when Hound's critical eye first skimmed over his nude body; he was too stunned, too aroused to speak when Hound forcibly removed his hands which shielded his private parts. Then of course, there came the giddy, goosepimply sensation all over his body when Hound's gloved hand cupped, weighed and gently squeezed his dangly bits. The dangerous thrill that shot through every part of his body when Hound's slender digits ran through the thick, brown hair on his head, the sound of his own guttural, lust filled gasp of pain that echoed in the sparsely furnished room when Hound grabbed a hank of hair and pulled; the cool impression of Hound's pitted, metal shin guards, grinding into his febrile back; that alone almost pushed him over the brink.

Not even his highly developed imagination held a candle to these new and exciting sensations.

The sense of utter humiliation he felt when Hound gruffly spoke to him, threatening to take matters into his own hands; it left him breathless and uncomfortably hard. The fact that Hound didn't give a damn about the discomfort he was causing, also amped up Yamato's desire, his hunger for more abuse from that ruthless man. Finally, having been thrust across a waiting lap, Yamato wholeheartedly embraced the bite of the rough cotton material that covered Kakashi's thighs, the fabric which scratched at his erection and rudely rolled back the tender, uncircumcised foreskin, exposing hypersensitive flesh beneath; the exquisite twinge of pain and the unexpected surge of satisfaction, once more threatened to bring him to a shuddering orgasm. Fortunately, he had the presence of mind to lift his hips slightly; it was the only thing that kept from rutting against Kakashi's thighs.

All he could do after the urge lessened was hope that Kakashi wouldn't see or couldn't feel the thin trail of pre ejaculate dribbled and smeared across the dark material.

That was the other thing about sexual fantasies . . . their appeal, their beauty, lay in their simplicity . . . yet this present reality was far too messy because of his tangled emotional attachments, both to Kakashi and Hound.

_Damn it! I'm not sure how much more of this I can take!_

Lost, trapped inside a dimension not of his making, Yamato coveted freedom from these strange and fantastical feelings, yet all the while he craved the sensual captivity this dimension offered. It was as if he were outside his body, watching these events unfold through the eyes of another, yet perceiving everything through his own physical senses. The scenario playing itself out before his eyes was something he never knew he wanted, but deep down inside, he knew that this was something he desperately needed. Through it all, he kept fighting, struggling to reject these experiences, fearing they'd fade away were he to surrender himself completely.

Hound's presence, as an 'overseer,' as a witness to his chastisement, muddied the waters further but made one thing crystal clear. He'd never outgrown the childlike, intense yearning for Hound's approval . . . as a shinobi and as a man. And so, Yamato steeled himself, determined to face his discipline with a dignity, a stoicism that was sure to garner Hound's respect.

That determination faltered, vanished without a trace, the moment Hound reached for the hairbrush.

White-knuckled, stomach twisting, blind panic was what all that remained; as far as Yamato was concerned, the 'overseer' was about to cross an invisible boundary, from 'witness' to active participant.

Animalistic lust boiled down right then and there, condensing itself into a base, almost feral instinct to survive.

He felt like a wild rabbit with its hind leg caught in a steel trap, as two hungry eagles circled overhead and like that wild rabbit, Yamato's thoughts centered on escape. Fear clouded his mind like a dense fog superseding rationality. He considered his options much like that frightened rabbit would; he could either gnaw off the ensnared appendage, and limp away for cover, (impossible) or remain trapped and cry out in distress (unthinkable) until the sharp talons of the hunters elevated him to a loftier height of agony or mercifully put him out of his misery.

In the end, it wouldn't matter would it? He was easy pickings for the amusement of the swift, deadly predators, soon to become a tasty morsel for their voracious appetites.

Either way, he was dead meat.

He knew from experience that any implement in Kakashi's capable hands would be employed firmly, purposely and yet with a measure of forbearance; Kakashi's intent as usual, would be to address and correct inappropriate behavior, ultimately ensuring compliance with his standards and rules. Kakashi's words would convey his displeasure with the failings of his protégé, giving added emphasis to every stinging stroke of the paddle, or every searing lash of the tawse. Yamato could deal with that. But it would not be so with Hound. Any implement in his cruel hands would turn into a weapon of full out devastation; Hound's intent as usual, would be to brutalize and the words he'd likely chose would be meant to demoralize and emotionally cripple.

_I gotta get the hell outta here!_

Yamato's eyes snapped as if having been awakened from a nightmare; the spike of adrenaline surging through his body, actuated sweaty palms to slam against the floor, pushing his body upward, while maneuvering himself away from Kakashi's body. Though the cloddish attempt at freedom was met with a deep throated chortle from Hound and an exasperated sigh from Kakashi, no other expression of resistance came from either man; that alone made his frantic flailing about cease.

Yamato realized he'd have to save his strength for whatever flagitious scheme Kakashi and Hound had concocted for such a time as this.

The heavy arm loosely holding him in place, lifted from his lower back, moving slowly upward as Kakashi's fingers trailed a heated path along his hip, skimming past his waist and his side until it reached his upper back; it was there Kakashi's warm hand came to rest between tense shoulder blades. Calloused fingertips inched further upward, gently kneading the top of his shoulder, while his other hand lazily drifted over the smooth rounded, flesh of his buttocks, and the back of his thighs; occasionally, Kakashi's blunt cut nails would lightly scratch at the ticklish spot behind Yamato's knee before moving down his leg. All the while, Kakashi's disingenuous words of consolation, like molten lava cut a swath of lucidity through the tangled web of Yamato's thoughts.

"Tenzou," he whispered, "calm yourself . . . Hound isn't going to hurt you."

Would to god Yamato could believe in those slippery words, those vapid containers of perjured commiseration, but this was just Kakashi doing what he did best; lulling someone into a false sense of security. Yamato would have to be cagier, more deceptive and quicker than his mentor to gain the necessary leverage.

Wriggling closer to his target, Yamato exaggerated his simpering movements, purposely letting Kakashi feel him relaxing into his touch; he was genuinely surprised to feel Kakashi relax in kind. And though he wasn't proud of what he was about to do next, he was confident that Kakashi would understand and later appreciate that the means, crude as they were, would be justified in the end.

There was only one other way to break a low level genjutsu that Yamato knew of . . . by inflicting sudden and extremely sharp pain on the one casting the illusion. Kakashi's ankle was so close to Yamato's face that he could see Kakashi's pulse, so close that he could feel the heat radiating from Kakashi's body. He'd bide his time, catch Kakashi off-guard for a nanosecond and launch a surprise attack; a bite specifically, right at the junction where Achilles tendon met heel.

It would effectively shatter the illusion, dispatch Hound to his rightful place and buy him enough time to break free, to reason with an angry Kakashi.

But until he could make a decisive move, he'd content himself to let Kakashi believe that he was in still in control.

"As for you Hound, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't tease him," Kakashi said as he continued the impromptu massage. "You know that Tenzou takes everything you say and do quite literally."

That mild rebuke obviously gave the other man pause, but it wasn't as if Hound was altogether silent. Above him there came the faint noise of something solid and wooden, methodically slamming against a flat surface. Naturally, it piqued his interest and Yamato warily lifted his head; he should have known better.

The heavy, antique, rosewood hairbrush, it's highly polished obverse side was tapping out a message in shinobi code against Hound's leather covered palm.

"**A mosaic of pain will I lay . . . your bottom, my canvas on which to play,"** or so went the code.

As Hound eased himself closer to Yamato's eye level, his white cloak fanned out and folded behind him like an accordion's bellows; suddenly, the red and black trimmed eye holes of the dog's mask blurred in Yamato's line of sight. His own breath, moist and halting, breezed back into his face when Hound pressed closer and a gruff laugh issued forth from the masked man.

"Yeah Kakashi," he said. "I know."

Hound drew away slowly, obviously pleased with himself about provoking a look of absolute terror in Yamato's eyes.

"It's a damn shame . . ." he said. "The more things change . . . the more they stay the same, eh Kakashi?"

Once more, the sound of wood tapping against leather ricocheted off the walls in the room.

Tap . . . Tap . . . Tap.

"You just take care of your end Kakashi."

Tap . . . Tap . . . Tap.

"I'll take care of mine."

_I gotta do this now, _Yamato thought, _before things really get out of hand! _

Above him the tapping ceased, but before he could blink twice, a gloved hand moved toward his face; he flinched away, but it was too late. Hound was holding him by the chin, pulling him closer; a solitary, steel grey eye shimmered with gleeful and malicious intent.

"Well . . . "Tenzou," he hissed, "since you'd like me and Kakashi to believe you're incapable of maintaining your focus . . . what say we play a little game?"

_You've got to be kidding me! A game?_

Ignoring the confrontation unfolding mere inches away, Kakashi's hand continued merrily skipping along the lower half of Yamato's body, creating a vastly different sort of tension than the one he sought to alleviate; meanwhile, Hound's manhandling, his not so subtle threats and nonverbal taunts were inciting anxiety even as they rekindled the embers of arousal.

_How the devil did these insufferable pricks expect me to concentrate on anything apart from their actions?_

When a bony elbow lazily pressed into a nerve cluster in the middle of his back, Yamato paid it no mind; acupressure, it was always Kakashi's small concession for his physical comfort and a telling indicator of how long a session across his knee would last. But something was very wrong this time; Yamato couldn't feel a thing from the middle of his back to the top of his shoulders. Kakashi's other hand was still meandering, still stroking its way over his body, but Yamato could not sense, nor truly enjoy the tactile experience of Kakashi's arm falling across his left shoulder; he could only look on in stunned silence as that pale hand stretched out to take possession of the hairbrush.

_Sweet Kami! He's not gonna start with that is he? That rat bastard! What the fuc-?_

"Tenzou, chill out," Kakashi said with a chuckle. Another playful slap to his bottom startled him and elicited another chuckle. "I'm just gonna lay the hairbrush right here, in the middle of your back so I can explain the rules of the game to ya."

The teasing lilt in Kakashi's voice was more terrifying than Hound's closeness; this wasn't going to end well.

A third playful slap on the bottom and another to the back of his thigh; neither was intended to cause pain, but to capture and hold Yamato's attention.

"It's a rather simple game," Kakashi continued, "you see, while I 'take care of my end,' Hound will be asking you a series of questions . . . which you will answer truthfully and in a timely manner. And since I'll be doing a majority of the heavy lifting here, all you have to do is keep the hairbrush from falling to the floor."

_So that's why . . . _

"And just how the hell am I supposed to do that," he roared, "since I can't feel the damn thing, I can't balance it and I damn sure can't stop it from slipping. I hardly think that's fair Kaka-"

"You're a smart kid, Tenzou . . . I'm sure you'll figure something out."

"Humph . . . now do you see," interrupted Hound, "now do you finally understand what years of leniency can spawn Kakashi? A loud mouthed brat who still hasn't learned how to address his superiors properly, one who takes liberties and - -"

"Hound . . . I got this."

Unintentional as it might have been, a wry smirk flashed across Yamato's lips; sure, one or both of them would make him pay for it for later, but what the hell, he'd savor this moment when Kakashi brought Hound to heel for as long as he could.

Turns out the enjoyment factor had a three second lifespan.

Jerking Yamato's chin upward, Hound growled huskily, "You oughta be glad I'm letting Kakashi deal with you boy. I would have had you screeching like a banshee long before now."

_All right, it's time to regroup._

Casting an awkward glance over his numbed shoulder, Yamato meekly murmured, "Kakashi-san . . . I'm sorry sir. I lost my head for a minute. Please, forgive my insubordinate behavior sir." Turning back to address Hound, he deeply dipped his head in submission. "I'm sorry Hound-san," he offered. "Please forgive me."

The movement of his head, which Hound so readily allowed and thoroughly enjoyed, brought Yamato parallel with Kakashi's ankle once more.

_I have to do this now . . . for his own good as well as mine. I can't believe the damn fool's willing to burn through his chakra reserves and collapse in a heap, just to get a point across!_

But a black hand stood between him and his intended target." Don't even think about it boy," said the wily Hound. "We'll always be three steps ahead of you . . . never forget that."

By this time, Hound was comfortably seated on the floor beside the open box of implements, his arms hugging his knees, his body language exuding excitement like a child pumped full of sugar and primed to watch his favorite cartoon shows on a homework-free Saturday morning.

"Let's get down to business," Hound said, "before my patience runs out or before he tries something stupider." Raising Yamato's head again, this time with both hands cradling his jaws, Hound's elbows were propped up on his knees, all the better to look him square in the eyes.

"I made a promise to get the truth out of you one way or another . . . and I always keep my promises. This little game of ours isn't just about helping you maintain focus, nah; it's all about exploration . . . discovering uncharted territory if you will." That sinister laugh rising deep within Hound's chest, like an exploding tag seemed to sizzle as it whipped past Yamato's ears, it was the satisfied laugh of a man who reveled in extracting information . . . in the most painful ways imaginable; it cut Yamato to the quick. He knew exactly what 'truth 'Hound was after and how he'd stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

_Kakashi would never permit physical torture . . . especially when mental anguish would suffice._

A gloved finger lifted Yamato's head as Hound directed his query to Kakashi, "Surely you haven't forgotten the most important aspect of the game, have you? We don't want to keep him in suspense, so go on then . . . tell him about the other penalty phases."

Kakashi took his sweet time, as he was want to do, readjusting Yamato into optimal position, tapping Yamato's calf with his fingers, subtly reminding him to straighten his legs and point his toes in preparation for punishment. When he was finally ready, the full weight of his forearm pressed into the small of Yamato's back, and his hand aligned itself along the side of his right thigh; the atmosphere in the room shifted, the very air itself thickened, making it harder to breathe. Kakashi's lackadaisical posture, the easy going demeanor so freely displayed before time, was struck down by the stiff and determined disposition of an austere dispenser of long overdue, well deserved discipline.

"Listen up," Kakashi snapped, his voice distant and flat. "There are two penalty phases of the game. In the first one, should the hairbrush fall to the floor, you will pick it up and place it in my hand. Twenty . . . that's the minimum number of penalty strokes you'll receive each time the brush falls. You'll count off each stroke for me, nice and loud. I'll return the hairbrush to its former place, and your other punishment will continue. Each time the hairbrush falls thereafter, the tally of strokes will increase by ten."

This was the voice of his team leader, issuing commands which were to be carried out without question; his judgment keen, his edict absolute. There would be no turning back now, no possible way to break through the wall of strident resolution.

"Tenzou, do you understand what the first phase of your punishment entails?"

Swallowing down the gigantic lump of anxiety in his throat, Yamato nodded his head. "Yes sir."

"If you refuse to answer a question or if you answer a question falsely, phase two of your punishment will kick in. In this phase, Hound will select an implement from the box to reward your disobedience . . . he will decide the number and severity of the strokes you'll receive. And if you still refuse to cooperate after that point, Hound will select another implement and we'll keep things going until you're ready to respond correctly."

A deep, cleansing breath, another defeated nod of the head and Yamato answered. "I understand sir."

"Hmm . . . you know," Hound began, "I would take it as a personal affront and it should probably be considered a breach of the rules if Tenzou were to close his eyes at any time during his punishment. Ah yes, those expressive eyes of his gave away his plan to injure you Kakashi, and we certainly don't want him to repeat that mistake, do we? Besides, I don't want miss a single flicker of fear or pain that's gonna cloud up those pretty brown eyes."

"Noted," Kakashi said after a beat. "I'm a little disappointed that Tenzou would attempt such a thing."

_Crap!_

"Indeed, that aborted escapade is worthy of its own penalty, don't you think Kakashi? I mean, we're trying to help him concentrate on one thing in particular, regardless of whatever else is going on around him or happening to him, and this is how he shows his appreciation?"

"Excellent point," was Kakashi's thoughtful response. "But what sort of penalty should we assign for such a grievous assault on your sense of aesthetics, and for his attempted assault on my person?"

One of Hound's hands retained its grip on Yamato's jaw, while the other burrowed under his cloak in search of something else. Having found the item, Hound slowly raised the object that Yamato examine it for himself. It was a regulation ANBU utility pouch, one used to carry small scrolls, extra shuriken, medicine or a whetstone; nothing out the ordinary, nothing to fear.

Although, the man who possessed that pouch and its contents was anything but ordinary.

"As luck would have it," Hound said, "I brought along a few items sure to make things more . . . interesting. With your permission Kakashi, I reserve the right to bring these 'items' into play at my discretion." Leaning closer he whispered in Yamato's ear, "Whether I use them for your punishment or as an incentive for continued good behavior solely depends on you."

There wasn't time to figure out what the hell he meant by that.

"Very well then," Kakashi said. "You have my permission. Since Tenzou, has already acknowledged his understanding of the rules and their penalties, tacking on this newest addendum won't require his consent. Tenzou, do you have any other questions for me or Hound?"

"No sir, no further questions."

There was a bone chilling pause, time to reflect, to prepare himself for the inevitable and painful first contact of a firm palm against his flesh.

"If you're ready Hound," he heard Kakashi say, "let us begin."

Laying the utility pouch atop the open box of implements with one hand and lifting Yamato's head with the other, Hound asked:

"Now then Tenzou . . . what shall we talk about?"

TBC


	5. Time Out Before We Twist and Shout

A/N: I felt so bad for the predicament we've left Yamato/Tenzou in; he's given up as there is no escape from his 'captors,' he's given himself over realizing this is a once in a lifetime opportunity to indulge a long held sexual fantasy. He's set to endure the pain that he might extrapolate this experience of Kakashi and Hound together, doing as they please with his body that he might spin it into an embellished memory to enjoy as often as he pleases. I thank you dear readers for following this story as it twisted and turned.

Come, let us explore **Yamato's reflections and cognitive processes** while the poor dear can still think straight.

In the span of a sneeze, a time honored ritual was turned upside down.

"In times past when I found myself in this position, I vowed never to let it happen again; a prime example of youthful rebellion against the inevitable. It took me a while to figure it out, but the only way I knew how keep that promise was by enforced separation from Kakashi/Hound; as it turned out separation made made it easier to idealize the man/monster. I came to dread those times when my mind wasn't engaged with something productive, even my dreams weren't safe from his intrusion.

Twelve years pass and we're thrown together on a whim of the Hokage.

Four days and one stupid mistake later and here I am again . . . a grown man, stripped naked, splayed across the lap of my commanding officer as I try to prepare myself to receive punishment better suited to a disobedient child.

Guess Hound was partially right. The more things changed; the more they stayed the same.

_Well . . . not exactly._

In times past, Kakashi would have succinctly stated his displeasure with my failings, enumerated the reasons why this form of correction was the only one appropriate, and the rump blistering would have commenced straight away.

No games, no penalty phases and most certainly, no spectators to my humiliation.

And now the infamous Hound, two legged demon dog from the lowest parts of hell manifested in the flesh to witness this private moment, to voice his approval of my chastisement . . . to laugh me to scorn as Kakashi doled out his brand of reckoning for my transgression.

Remarkable . . . in the field, I knew to expect the unexpected from Hound; that's what made him a fearsome opponent, an unorthodox leader able to out think and outmaneuver our enemies. Kakashi's the same way of course, but in him there's a fount of human kindness, unknown by Hound.

In the field, Kakashi favored the quick, silent and merciful kills whereas Hound enjoyed taunting his foes with imaginative and often, perverse methods of psychological and physical torture; the hair-raising screams of his enemies - a symphony to his ears.

I can only imagine how thrilled he'll be if Kakashi's actions can drag the same type of 'music' from me.

Here in this place, on familiar ground . . . trapped between them, I know it's unwise to trust either of them. Between Kakashi's attempts to dulcify me . . . kneading my flesh that he might cuittle my nerves and muscles to relax – Hound silently threatening, dragooning me into submission with his fixed gaze and utility pouch filled with nefarious instruments . . .

I fear it equally unwise to trust myself.

Hound is an extremely volatile entity, a powder keg of a being whose fuse grows shorter as the years roll on. He had and still has, little patience for acts of kindness and a lesser degree of tolerance for those who couldn't mentally keep pace with him, or physically stomach his gruesome ways. It's no wonder then that our comrades and even the Sandaime Hokage were amazed that Hound insisted I remain a permanent part of his squad all those years.

Of course, why wouldn't he keep me by his side?

I was the 'sacrificial lamb' thrown out into an open field to appease the rapacious wolf.

Those higher up chain of ANBU command feared Hound might someday break free of Kakashi's power to restrain him; like a ferocious animal, they'd investigated numerous means to put him down should that day come. Given my familiarity with him, the job of striking down Hound/Kakashi was foisted off me.

Unfortunately, they overestimated my willingness to carry out a direct order; they also underestimated the strength of Kakashi's mental faculties, as well as my fear and respect for Kakashi and Hound.

Back then, I was eager to learn, too compliant for my own good and completely star struck by the legend and the man. I was but a lump of clay and he, Kakashi/Hound the potter.

Hound spun me about, molded me into his own image of what a proficient and deadly shinobi should be; he plucked out what he perceived as impurities with the pointed forceps of his words and left the physical discipline of my body in the capable hands of his alternate persona.

Kakashi was the one who smoothed away my inherent imperfections with the palm of his hand or the flat planes of a wide paddle. Anything that would make me shatter in the heated kiln of battle had to be purged; igniting a fire at the root, or rather the seat of the reluctance was the only way Kakashi believed I could learn.

And when it came to 'smoothing out my imperfections,' Kakashi always adhered to a certain pattern of behavior that was both predictable and comforting.

The implements of correction were usually selected in advance and neatly arranged in the order in which Kakashi would use them. Ah yes, the arrangement of the implements and the materials from which they were constructed, signified the severity of the discipline or punishment he'd administer and the position that I was required to assume.

Short leather implements alone meant I'd be over Kakashi's knee for the duration; longer leather implements like the razor strop or the tawse meant I was to bend forward at the waist with my palms on the seat of the chair as this position allowed Kakashi to move about me freely and provided a wider arc for each powerful strike.

I preferred those times when the short leather implements were on display—it meant Kakashi wasn't truly angry with me; more importantly it meant I'd be in constant and very close contact with Kakashi's body. These were _disciplinary_ or as Kakashi called it, 'attitude adjustment' sessions that he used to address areas of laziness, such as my timidity when sparring with him or as a reminder to mind my tone of voice when addressing a superior officer.

In between vigorous swats, there would be conversation . . . of a sort; Kakashi would lightly scold me and I'd give choked out explanations for my actions or lack thereof.

Once the discipline session was over, I was expected to kneel before him, to apologize and then to thank him for the correction he'd provided. Afterwards, I literally sprinted home to strip off my clothes as soon as my front door locked behind me; straight to bathroom I ran, leaving bits and pieces of uniform where ever they happened to fall.

I can still remember how good it felt to ease my burning backside against the cool, slick tiles of the bathroom with my cock in my hand. And as I stood there with my eyes closed, I'd slowly stroke myself back to hardness replaying Kakashi's words in my mind. Orgasm, quick and powerful overtook me sooner than I wanted and subsequently, I'd stumble into the shower to wash away the shame . . . the proof of my desire for him.

Crawling into bed those nights, exhausted and yet strangely unfulfilled, I'd toss and turn for hours before drifting off to sleep.

_By the gods, I was so pathetic back then._

Yet, if I'm honest with myself, the times when Kakashi opted for more strident correction, were the most satisfying.

Wooden implements of various lengths and thickness lying beside the chair or directly in front of it meant one of Kakashi's cardinal rules had been violated and hopes for leniency should be promptly abandoned.

No words passed between us before, during or after, after all this was intended as punishment on a myriad of levels. Only the repetitious sharp, snap of the hairbrush or paddles and the frequent hisses of pain as my sweaty palms slid across the seat of the old wooden chair - these were the only sounds permitted within boundaries of Kakashi's living room.

Time came to a standstill on this merry go round of exquisite agony, but once the paddle or hairbrush fell for the last time, Kakashi would walk away from me, expecting that I'd dress quickly and remove myself from his residence.

Having pushed Kakashi to take such drastic measures, hurt more than the combined strikes I'd taken.

An emotional wreck, that's what I was when I left a punishment session; regret inundated my mind . . . weighed heavy on my heart.

I always took my time walking those nights – that I might agnize my error . . . that I might savor the pain inflicted; my thighs crisscrossed with stripes from the ruler or the switch, my ass, swollen and tender from the heavy handed strikes of dense, unyielding wood. And as I slowly made my way home, I feared my engorged cock would burst through my pants.

Every excruciating step toward my home reinforced the determination to get my act together, that Kakashi might not have to revisit this form of chastisement in the future.

Every excruciating step toward my home made my body quiver as I imagined what it might feel like . . . Kakashi's nails digging into my hips as pounded me from behind, his hips slamming against the tender skin of my ass; his balls colliding with mine as he fucked out every bit of the frustrations I'd heaped upon until my eyes crossed in pleasurable pain.

When my front door closed and locked behind me after a session of punishment, I too followed a predictable pattern of behavior which mortified, frightened and exhilarated me.

I always headed straight for the bedroom where I retrieved a small tube of lubricant from the nightstand before I undressed. Flopping down on the hard surface of the bed, I'd grind my hips into the knotty fabric of the comforter; my mind randomly supplying the loud, swishing sounds of long, thin paddles or the switch slicing through the air as I relived every stroke Kakashi had precisely laid across my ass and the backs of my thighs.

At some point, I couldn't take the memories any longer; the desires of my body forced me to to take a more active part in my gratification.

Fumbling for the lubricant beside me, I'd squeeze out a healthy dollop of the viscous substance into the palm of my left hand, dipping the fingers of my other hand into the cool creamy goo to warm it to body temperature.

A deep tremulous breath and then a slow, steady breach of my puckered entrance; the momentary sting as one and then both fingers slipped inside would ease as I imagined the smooth, beet red head of Kakashi's cock nudging me open. Warm, tight heat constricted around my fingers as they inched forward, searching for that tiny cluster of nerves; with the searing, constant ache of a well paddled bottom against the coarse, decorative material of the bedspread, my straining cock ached to be stroked.

I never understood why orgasm took so long to arrive after that; perhaps the numerous sensations I was experiencing were too much for my overheated brain to process . . . perhaps I was too caught up in the imagery of Kakashi's pale, naked body angrily rutting against my olive skin as I gave myself to him. Fervent stroking quickened and when my fingers finally bumped against that hidden area of pleasure, my release was explosive.

My body wildly convulsed, jerking me inches off the mattress as ribbons of hot, salty cum splattered against my chest and chin; my tongue greedily lapped up traces of my own essence as I imagined it was Kakashi's. My fingers, constrained by spasmodic contractions were pushed from their tight prison and fell with a thump against the bedspread right before I drifted off into a deep dreamless sleep.

Tonight however, Kakashi strayed far from our ritual; things were much too quiet in the tiny living room.

Hound sat before me, demanding an answer to a simple question too complex for my feverish mind to understand . . . too damning for my lips to utter."

"What's it gonna be boy?" I heard Hound say as he jerked my chin upward.

"Answer my question . . . what the hell was so fascinating that it took your mind off the mission?"

Notes:

Cuittle: cajole, coax.

Dragoon: to force by oppressive measures, coerce.

Agnize: recognize, acknowledge, own up to.


	6. Twist and Shout

**Good ninja . . . Bad ninja . . . Extremely horny ninja. **

**Can you guess which one is which?**

_Though my tongue is cloven to the roof of my mouth . . . still they expect me to speak. _

_Though my mind has shifted into neutral, spinning its wheels without ever gaining traction on lucidity . . . still they insist I provide clear answers to their queries so pointed and exact. _

_Control over the evolutionary responses of my body and the involuntary reactions of my physical being, this I do not have . . . and these will become the source of their mockery, the subjects of their intense analysis and appraisal. _

_Kakashi's hands continue to roam over my body, relaxing muscles tensed in anticipation . . . they warm me, sparking a fire deep within. _

_All the while, _

_Hound levels a cold, threatening gaze on me from behind an expressionless mask; his eyes, like permafrost stilettos following in the path of Kakashi's hands, they plunge me into an ice bath of terror, leaving me frozen in fear. _

_Every so often in the course of their aimless journey, the pads of Kakashi's fingers would dip between my cheeks; lingering there for a split second at a time . . . long enough to wring a sharp grunt or squeeze a surprised gasp from me as my hips rise and fall of their own accord._

_"It was an accident_," that's what the voice in his head screamed each time Kakashi's teasing strokes swept past his quivering hole.

_"Kakashi's an unrepentant pervert, an unrepentant __heterosexual __pervert . . . everybody knows that. He wanders through the streets of the village boldly reading a paperback book chock full of lurid tales of men taking their liberties with, fondling, licking and screwing women. Let's not embarrass ourselves further by reading anything into a simple mistake. . ._

_"Bullshit!" _screamed the voice in his head_, "Kakashi never makes 'simple' mistakes."_

Suddenly, the very idea of anyone, male or female seeing, touching or receiving Kakashi's cock in any way, sent a chill down his spine and a froward tightness in the pit of his stomach as Yamato purposely elevated his hips and spread his legs a mite wider.

_"Come on damn it, get it together_,_"_ cautioned the small portion of his mind not eaten away by fleshly desire.

But in truth, Yamato had already sped through the roadblocks of caring about anything other than what was happening right now. _Not knowing_ what would occur from one minute to the next, that's what sharpened his apprehension - _knowing for certain_ his every move was being carefully cataloged by the watchful Hound, that's what honed his arousal like a whetstone, making his cock grow harder by the second. And _knowing_ that Kakashi/Hound would do as they pleased for as long as they pleased made it easier to ignore the warning screaming inside his mind.

Self-preservation and dignity be damned.

_That settles it . . . I've finally gone 'round the bend,'_ he thought, for there was a minuscule portion of his mind that projected Kakashi as a master calligrapher seated at his work bench . . . preparing Yamato's body like a rare piece of parchment. The heat of Kakashi's hands . . . smoothing over the surface of his skin, conditioning it as it were to receive and retain the missive of chastisement Kakashi intended to imprint – to absorb the weight of the precise strokes which were soon to follow. And just as that master calligrapher would do, Yamato knew his captain was unwilling to lay down a single stroke until all was in order.

On the other hand, Hound's disintegrating patience and his overarching desire to mete out retribution for the crime committed was like a raging fire – wildly destructive, licking at the edges of the priceless parchment – eager to engulf and devour it . . . to reduce it to a worthless pile of ashes.

Out of the blue, a harsh slap to his cheek and the salty taste of blood on his tongue quickly snatched him back to reality.

"Don't you dare ignore me!" Hound furiously snarled.

"I wasn't . . . err, I didn't sir," he clumsily lied.

The sound of wood splintering, the rapid release of dust particles and grit sent a skin crawling cringe shooting through him when Hound's fist impacted a small area of the floor to his left.

_Son of a bitch,_ Yamato inwardly sighed when he glanced down at the small crater under Hound's knuckles. _I bet they're gonna make me fix that before I leave._

"Now, now Hound-san . . . let's not be hasty," he heard Kakashi say as his fingers skated over the outside of his trembling hip. "You're frightening my kohai."

From Hound's belly there rumbled a baleful laugh and through one of the slits in his mask, a stormy grey eye scanned the entirety of Yamato's suddenly blanched face.

"If he's just frightened . . . then I must not be doing my job correctly," he said. "Nah, he can't possibly be afraid of little old me cause if he was, he would have answered the question the first time I asked." Tilting his head to the right, with a smoky grey eye focused on Yamato's constricted pupils, he said, "Maybe your boy's too stupid to be afraid, yea . . . that's it."

"On the contrary, Hound-san, Tenzou's an intelligent -"

"Don't bet on it," said Hound when he jerked Yamato's jaw upward. "Cause if he had any sense at all . . . he'd be scared shitless." Calfskin covered fingers acting like a squeegee, drove down the sheen of sweat covering his throat when Yamato anxiously swallowed.

"Speaking of spineless little shits . . . why don't you quit being a pussy, Kakashi and just beat his ass?"

The hand tracing small circles over Yamato's flank stilled, and a gentle blast of warm breath blew across the small of Yamato's back when Kakashi slowly exhaled. "Hound-san," he said as his hands resumed their meandering ways, "I assure you . . . Tenzou will pay dearly for his transgression."

"And when exactly is that gonna happen Kakashi . . . tomorrow . . . next week sometime?"

That teasing lilt, the one that spoke volumes of untold mayhem crept into Kakashi's voice when he said, "Anger clouds sound judgment and blinds the eye to other, more interesting alternatives. Perhaps if you settle down and listen closely Hound-san, you'd realize I have a plan-"

"I'm warning you, it better not be some candy assed way of coddling this little caitiff or I swear to the gods -"

"Hound-san, you've got to relax," he quietly laughed, "pace yourself. Why . . . at this rate you'll work yourself into a thick lather and burn through your scant supplies of energy in no time."

As Kakashi's hand slowly floated over his thighs, Yamato couldn't help hearing the cracking sound of Hound's knuckles as he clenched and unclenched his fist.

"Surely you don't want to leave me with a surplus of your wrath without a proper way to expend it, would you Hound-san?"

"You're starting to piss me off Kakashi," he said when the fingers of his other hand dangerously tightened under Yamato's jaw again. "After what he did . . . damn near got us killed -"

"Trust me, I understand what _could have_ happened because of Tenzou's propensity for woolgathering. And I know full well how much you want to inflict as much pain as you possibly can in the shortest amount of time. However," he said as his blunt fingernails skimmed over the space behind Yamato's knee, "one of us has to be practical."

"I could give a fuck about practical Kakashi! Jerking Yamato's head upward by a hank of hair, he spat, "What I don't understand is why? Why, after all he's done . . . why the hell are you trying to protect him?"

A blind man could see that Hound was teetering on the verge on insanity; a man unable to hear could feel the enraged vibrations in Hound's voice as he spoke. Despite Kakashi's attempts to inject reason into this situation, Hound was about to step over the line Kakashi set for him, for he was a being given to fits of misology that neither heaven's angels nor hell's demons could sway him from.

At once, Yamato's urge to flee resurrected - for he knew once Hound set his mind to something it always ended with the spilling of blood.

"Think about this for a second," Kakashi said. "If you make him have a heart attack before we've even begun, you'll never get the chance to use any of those . . . 'incentives' stashed away in your utility pouch."

Lazily kneading Yamato's fleshy buttocks as Hound seethed, Kakashi off handedly added, "Rushing him to the emergency room, having to explain why he was buck naked in my home in the first place . . . I dare say Hound-san, that would put a serious damper on our fun . . . don't you think?"

As a silent war of wills raged over him, Yamato couldn't be bothered to figure out what the concept of 'fun' meant to these two. Instead, he what he did best, allowing himself to be caught up in the sensations impregnating the atmosphere in the room – the tension sparking like fireworks between these diverging personas; the homicidal vibes exuding from Hound and the quiet steadfastness, like a barricade that surrounded Kakashi.

In the edgy stillness, he felt as if he were standing knee deep in a warm, tranquil pond with Kakashi upstream like a dry rotted wooden dam, straining to hold back the deluge of Hound's ire like violent, frothing waves. Soon . . . very soon, the churning, brackish waters of Hound's frustration would burst through Kakashi's arguments, leaving both of them gasping for breath as Hound surged over them . . . suffocating them with the unearthly power of his rash choler.

_May the gods have mercy on my perverted soul, _he thought as he hung in limbo, tangled in the web of their silence. _ I want nothing more than to drink in Hound's fury like a sun dried sponge._

A low growl from deep within Hound's throat tersely shattered the glass like quiet.

"Fine," he said with a snort. "I'll go along with you to a point Kakashi, but to prevent you two little pussies from spoiling my fun, I'm gonna add my own twist."

"Agreed," Kakashi said with a smile.

Releasing Yamato's hair from his death grip, Hound barked, "Lift your hips boy!"

Apparently, he moved too slowly for Hound's liking and for that he was taken by surprise when another sharp slap landed across his cheek. "Quit dickin' around and move boy!"

This time, Yamato was up on his toes and the tips of his fingers before he could blink, grateful that he could feel Kakashi's arm press against his ribs when he steadied the hairbrush in place.

_Thank god! I knew I could depend on you Kakashi._

Of course, Hound wouldn't let Kakashi's act of kindness go unnoticed.

"Seriously," he said, "the hell's the matter with you tonight, Kakashi?"

Yamato felt the slight shift in Kakashi's upper body when he shrugged his shoulders. "All things in due time, Hound-san; we're going to be fair and reasonable, remember?"

In his peripheral vision as Hound held his chin aloft, Yamato tracked the movements of Hound's right arm as it slowly reached for the pouch below him.

There was a loud _snap_ as the pouch was brusquely opened . . . the _shushing_ sound of heavy canvas came next, as its cover slapped against the floor. And then there came the rattle of metallic objects being shifted against each other as Hound searched through his kit for the items he needed; it was at once nerve wracking and exciting, until at last, a toe-curling, evil laugh snaked out from under the dog mask when Hound finally gathered up the remaining piece of whatever it was that he wanted.

In a flash, Hound fluidly rose to his feet, robbing Yamato's head of its support; black leather sandals were a blur of motion when the masked man moved to Yamato's right.

Morbid curiosity is what compelled Yamato to awkwardly strain his neck that he might catch a glimpse of the objects Hound held in his hand; alas, his efforts were futile, for Hound's white cloak concealed the plundered supplies.

Meanwhile, Kakashi continued on with the massage - his fingers dancing along, tickling the right side of Yamato's body.

When Hound took up his position behind him, straddling his legs, Yamato squeezed his eyes shut, knowing Hound could not see what he'd done as he tried in vain to stop his uncooperative legs from shaking; in one sweeping motion he felt Hound swat away Kakashi's gentle hand. There came a searing slap across his left buttock right before Hound dug his nails into that mound of quivering flesh while his other hand reached between Yamato's parted thighs.

Without so much as a 'by your leave,' Hound's slender fingers wrapped themselves around the loose skin of his scrotum, squeezing and crushing his balls against each other, capturing errant pubic hairs as he twisted and pulled his sac lower.

His unmanly squeak of surprise and pain garnered a devilish laugh from his captors and sent another wave of heated embarrassment scrabbling up Yamato's reddened cheeks.

"On second thought," said Hound as he slowly backed away from them, "Stand up on your feet boy."

Quick as you please, Kakashi took hold of the hairbrush and helped him to stand; a warm arm, loosely draped around his waist was the only thing that kept the disoriented Yamato from falling over.

"I'm gonna say this real slow, so even you can understand it," thundered Hound's voice against his back as he shakily stood. "So pay attention boy."

"Yes sir," he said as his eyes readjusted to the dim light of the room.

"Now, go on, stand over there . . . facing Kakashi," directed Hound.

Not degraded in the slightest by the contumeliousness in Hound's voice, Yamato could feel himself becoming aroused as he took in the sight of Kakashi sitting there on the old wooden chair with a smile on his lips and the hairbrush balanced on his thigh. Amazingly, he felt even more naked than ever as Kakashi's eye deliberately stutter-stepped down his chest, appreciatively taking in his dusky erect nipples before stalking down the trail of dark brown hair which ended in a wiry nest of darker brown pubic hair.

Yamato quickly lowered his eyes, disinclined as he was to see Kakashi's reaction to his steadily stiffening cock.

"Put your hands on Kakashi's thighs," said Hound, "and spread your legs for me . . . that's it boy . . . nice and wide."

Stepping closer, mesmerized as he watched Kakashi take the hairbrush in hand and hold it down by his side, Yamato's palms slid over the rough cotton fabric, likewise entranced by the rise and fall of the other man's chest as he leaned down.

"Bend your knees," he heard Hound say, "and stick out that bubble butt of yours like you're proud of it."

It took a bit of maneuvering and a few more sharp slaps, but by the time Hound was satisfied with his placement, Yamato's forearms were resting in Kakashi's lap, his fingers wrapped around the slats of the chair back and the tip of his nose was pressed into the space between Kakashi's thighs.

He drew in a breath scented with the lingering traces of the bath's spicy oils and the sweet, woodsy scent that was uniquely Kakashi. The crown of his head, parallel with the gig line of his captain's pants allowed him to feel what he imagined was Kakashi's shaft laying just to the right of the zipper's placket.

Maybe it was his overactive imagination, so be it, but Yamato swore he could feel Kakashi's cock twitch and harden against the uppermost side of his head which prompted his own cock to jerk in response. But when a vulgar, low pitched wolf whistle trilled behind him, Yamato's entire body shuddered.

"Well," Hound's husky voice teased, "ain't this a pretty picture?"

He couldn't see him, but Yamato could tell Hound had his arms crossed over his chest and his head cocked to the side as his eye skidded over his body.

There was a hint of regret in Hound's voice when he said, "What I wouldn't give to a have a camera this very second. Still, I wonder Tenzou," he said, "What would your ANBU comrades think if they could see you like I do right now?"

That was the last thing Yamato wanted to consider. Several of his squad mates used to tease him about being Kakashi's 'pet,' while others, envious of his rapport with the captain dared bad mouth him to Kakashi in the hope of usurping his position.

"By the god's boy," continued Hound, "you got your head buried between your squad leader's legs and your ass stuck out like a five dollar whore, just waiting for someone or _something _to come along and plug her hole."

Hound stood directly behind him with the palm of his hand having come to rest in the middle of his back. "I wonder _Tenzou_, would your ANBU buddies laugh at your current situation, or would they grind their teeth in anger as they finally came to understand why the captain favors you over them?"

With such an insinuating question floating in the air, Hound's hand slithered down his back pausing briefly to fondle Yamato's butt. "Guess we'll never find out," he says when his leather covered fingers suddenly batted at the pendulous sac between Yamato's legs.

It couldn't be helped . . . the astonishingly intense pain turned Yamato's knees to jelly and pushed him forward, deeper into Kakashi's crotch.

Patting Yamato's forearm gently to console him, Kakashi jokingly chides his alter ego. "Hound-san," he said, "that wasn't very nice."

"What do I care? It was funny as hell watching him baulk and hearing him yelp like a little bitch."

When Hound squats behind him with the palm of his hand cupping his balls, the shame Yamato knew earlier barely eclipses his arousal. He's unashamedly panting now as two of Hound's fingers encircle the base of his cock while his other hand busies itself stroking him to hardness.

"Don't get too excited little puppy," Hound says, "this isn't intended for your pleasure . . . it's punishment after all." And with that, he slips a small leather strap, lined with tiny, irregularly spaced spikes around the root of Yamato's cock and snaps it into place. Gripping Yamato's rigid shaft in his left hand and stroking roughly, Hound gives his balls another stinging slap which once again forces Yamato's head into Kakashi's crotch.

One more sharp slap to the balls finds Yamato's sweaty hand clutched around the spindles of the chair's back support.

Two of Hound's fingers roughly encircle the apex of his scrotum, pushing it down, while he slowly wraps a thin width of leather twice, directly above the place where his fingers are. Carefully, Hound threads the same strip of leather downward, effectively isolating Yamato's gonads one from the other and then the piece of leather is yanked upward again to thread through the coil of leather above his sac.

"Bear with me a few minutes more, Kakashi, I'm almost finished." For the final time, Hound feeds the leather strip up and through right side of ring, wrapping the excess around Yamato's shaft and back down thru left side of ring.

While he's being laced up like a Christmas goose, Yamato's freaking out; quietly of course since he erroneously believes Hound intends to castrate him. He's shaking like a leaf and sweating profusely and once more Kakashi pats him on the arm, urging him by word and deed to calm down.

With his sac slightly held apart from body and his nuts securely but loosely separated, Hound rises to his feet and goes back to where the pouch lays.

"You can let him get up now Kakashi," he said, when he reached into the pouch again.

He knows he shouldn't, but that doesn't stop Yamato from lifting his head slightly to see what Hound's up to. Watching Hound deliberately wrap a wider strip of brown leather around his right hand, he wonders, _what the hell is he going to do with that?_

"Last time we used this, Buru was the runt of the litter," Hound says, extending his arm and opening his hand in Kakashi's direction as he stands.

Laughing as he marveled at the sight, he heard Kakashi say, "Damn! Has it been that long?" Plucking up the small, round object from Hound's palm when he held it at eye level, he smiled and said, "Almost forgot we had this thing. Think it will be as effective as it used to be?"

"Oh, I'm positive it will . . . if correctly applied," Hound tells him.

For the briefest of moments, Yamato pictured his captain looking like an obnoxiously cute little boy who just captured a fat, slimy frog, intent on shoving it in some unsuspecting little girl's face.

"Tenzou, you gotta check this out," he said, "Go on, you can hold it."

His usually dexterous fingers fumbled about in the bowl of Kakashi's outstretched palm. This thing, no larger than a pea, evaded capture like greased pig; when finally Yamato apprehended it, he was surprised to discover that it was much heavier than it appeared to be.

_It doesn't have sharp edges, or any type of spring mechanisms,_ Yamato thought as he prodded at it and rotated it between his sweaty fingers. _And it didn't react negatively when I sent a tendril of chakra though it either. So what the hell does it do?_

"Can you guess what it is Tenzou?"

"I'm not sure sir," he hesitantly says as he examines it closely. "It appears to be a weight of some sort . . . like fishermen use," he said handing it back to Kakashi.

"Actually," Kakashi said cheerfully, "it's a training device we used with the ninken. Believe it or not, this tiny thing is a bell; ingenious really," he says allowing the smooth round ball to roll around his palm again, "you see, the clapper inside is designed to strike against the bell only when the leash that Hound is holding is pulled in a certain direction."

"Yeah," laughed Hound. "Like Kakashi said, it's a training device."

Rudely elbowing him away from where Kakashi sat, Hound created enough space for him to kneel before the befuddled man saying, "We used to clip this to the dog's collar, positioning it just beneath their ear. And whenever he didn't execute a command correctly, the bell would start ringing -"

"And it would continue to ring louder and louder," Kakashi added, "growing incrementally heavier until the dog got the command down pat." Leaning back in his chair, he smacked the the hairbrush against his hand as he quizzically studied Yamato's face.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," he said with a pout. "The bell didn't hurt . . . it just annoyed the hell out of 'em . . . that's all."

Again it really shouldn't have, but for whatever reason, the idea of being lead around on a leash by Hound while Kakashi looked on seemed to excite Yamato to no end. That image vanished like a puff of smoke with a shake of his head.

"Sir," he softly asked, "you're not going to put a . . . a collar on me, are you?"

"Pfft . . . perish the thought, Tenzou."

"Yeah, you're not ready and you damn sure aren't worthy to wear my collar just yet boy," Hound tells him, flicking at his imprisoned balls with his fingers. "I've got something much better in mind for you. Spread your legs for me again."

_By the gods, Hound's on his knees and his mask is so close to my cock,_ Yamato thinks as he turns his eyes from the sight. _Can't let him know I'm watching him._

Moving quickly to attach the bell the leftover strips of leather hanging from his cock and balls, Hound threads the strips through a D-ring at the end of the leash. Giving the neatly wrapped package another sharp slap, he rises once again to stand beside him. After a few minutes more, Hound steps further back to admire his handiwork.

"There," he says finally. "I feel much better now. That was a damn good idea you had Kakashi."

_Wait . . . tying up my nuts . . . was that Kakashi's idea? I thought when they were so quiet earlier . . . I thought he was protecting me from Hound, but this . . . this is what Kakashi told him to do to me?_

_No . . . no, that's impossible – Kakashi wouldn't -_

"All right then," says his captain, with a final smack of the hairbrush against his palm, "let's get this show on the road."

"Gladly," says Hound as shoves Yamato forward and turns him by the crook of his arm so that he's headed toward Kakashi's right side.

For just a moment, Yamato earnestly searches Kakashi's eye, hoping to find something there . . . anything to confirm that he'd misunderstood Hound's claim – but there was nothing other than a twinkle of mischief and a sly smile on his lips.

Pressing Yamato's cock against his belly, Hound lowers him into position across Kakashi's lap so that his balls are lying on the outer part of Kakashi's thigh and his cock is painfully squashed against his stomach and the flat plane of Kakashi's thigh.

"Carry on Kakashi," says Hound once he retakes his seat on the floor in front of Yamato to hold his chin upright.

"I really should put this back where it belongs," Kakashi said as he repositions the hairbrush.

No sooner than Hound had gotten comfortable, Kakashi's hand falls . . . hard.

Confused by the thought that Hound might be the 'good guy' and somehow oddly relieved that his punishment is getting underway, Yamato braces himself for a brisk warm up - Kakashi doesn't disappoint on that front.

"What say we start with a simple question?" Hound innocently asks after Kakashi settles into a steady rhythm. "I bet you were hoping the passage of time had sapped Kakashi's arm of strength . . . am I right boy?"

"Yes sir," he said with a wince.

**xoxoxo**

Lengthy moments stretched themselves out as Kakashi peppered his bottom and thighs and by the time Hound decided to speak again, Yamato's squirming about as the heat spreads and intensifies across his backside.

"Okay boy, tell me," says Hound. "What was the exact nature of our mission?"

"Reconnaissance, sir."

"And what exactly is reconnaissance?"

Yamato could feel his eyebrows knitting together in annoyance and his lip curling into a sneer. "_For god's sake, don't antagonize him_," screeched the voice in his head.

Pursing his lips he blew out his response. "Sir, it's gathering intelligence . . . by stealth," he huffed when a particularly wicked strike landed in the middle of his thigh. "Ascertain enemy's numbers … armaments and . . . **damn it**! . . . report our findings, sir."

By now, Kakashi was concentrating his strikes up and down Yamato's thighs and each time he tried to squirm away, the leather straps holding his cock and balls tightened.

Hound sat back to enjoy each flinch of Yamato's body. Every startled expression and the small gasps that escaped Yamato's lips were greeted with the noise of Hound's heavy breaths against the inside of his mask.

"And were we at any time to engage the engage the enemy?"

"No sir, we were only to act in . . . **fuck!** . . . self-defense."

"And when the enemy stumbled upon you, where were you boy?"

"Camouflaged sir . . . **Ow!** . . . in a clump of . . . **holy shit!** . . . in a clump of tall grasses sir."

"Should I assume that you're ready to tell us what else you were doing while camouflaged in that clump of tall grasses?"

"Please sir . . . I . . . I can't -"

"Can't," Hound said as he moved closer, "or won't? Which one is it boy?"

"Tenzou, this isn't the time to be stubborn," Kakashi said punctuating his remarks with another series of brisk slaps along the back of Yamato's thighs. Hisses of pain as Kakashi laid into his bottom and thighs with relish, was the only way could Yamato could respond.

"Need I remind you that provoking Hound-san isn't a good idea Tenzou?"

"Sir, I-"

"Ooaah," yawned Hound, "I'm already bored. Maybe I should just use the Sharingan to get the truth from -"

"Sir . . . please . . . don't," Yamato pled," screwing his eyes shut when Kakashi rained down another series of sharp slaps right on his sit spots.

Hound didn't miss that either.

But before he could pronounce judgment for this blatant infraction of the rules, another vicious set of strikes that addressed the back of his thighs pushed Yamato forward on Kakashi's lap, causing his legs to lift off the floor when he jerked away from Kakashi's heavy hand.

At that precise moment, all activity ceased, and every eye latched onto the hairbrush as it flung itself from its perch, landing a foot away from them to lazily spin on its bristles.

"Tenzou," Kakashi says quietly, "I do believe you've committed a foul."

"A double foul," Hound sneered. "He closed his eyes _and_ lost the brush, both in the span of about five seconds.

"Tsk, tsk . . . I almost feel sorry for you boy . . . almost."

TBC

Notes:

Baleful: full of menacing or malign influences; pernicious.

Caitiff: a base, despicable person.

Woolgathering: indulgence in idle daydreaming.

Misology: distrust or hatred of reason or reasoning.

Choler: irascibility, wrath.

Cullion: a base or vile person; worthless fellow, literally, a testicle from the Vulgar Latin coleonem meaning testicle; colei (plural), which means testicles or scrotum.

Contumely: insulting display of contempt in words or actions; contemptuous or humiliating treatment.

Buru, or Bull as he's known in the English anime, is Kakashi's large, black bulldog.


	7. Into The Crevasse Merrily We Fall

One revolution of the hairbrush and Hound's harsh laughter rings in his ears.

Two revolutions of the hairbrush and Kakashi's hand gently squeezes, redistributing the warmth and sting throughout his trembling right buttock.

Three revolutions and the inertia causing the brush to spin is depleted of its energy; it comes to a halt halfway across the room or so it seems, with its handle turned opposite his outstretched hand and scrabbling fingers.

The geek within him stirs, begging the question,

_"How could such a thing be possible? Even if my body violently jerked in response to an external stimulus, the brush should have fallen to the floor somewhere within arm's reach. _

_But given the trajectory and distance traveled, this . . . this is ridiculous!"_

A smaller, cogent part of his mind put forth the argument that '_this was Kakashi's house and Kakashi's brush . . . __should you really be surprised the damn thing was jettisoned into the air?'_

Kakashi's feather like touches trace over the welted outlines where his hands made impact with the back of Yamato's thighs; his warm breath like a caress, much cooler in comparison to his flesh, falls softly in the center of his back when he says:

"You know Tenzou . . . that brush isn't going to retrieve itself."

He thinks to shoot a glare over his shoulder but is forced to nix that idea as the _'ring a ling'_ of the tiny bell grows louder and its weight heavier when Hound firmly pulls on the leather leash, wrapping it around his fist as he chuckles behind the mask.

And as sound of the bell echoes in his ears, Yamato curses the thought that Hound may have attached chakra wire to the brush to aid in its flight.

_Wouldn't put it past that sadistic bastard_, he thinks scuttling closer to the sharp drop off point at the end of Kakashi's bony knees.

A slow turn of his head toward where the brush lay . . . he blinked and in that moment he'd swear he saw it move further away.

"Tenzou,' came the smooth, innocent voice of his captain, "is there a problem?"

He drew in a deep breath to calm himself - given his position it would be foolish to utter anything less than a respectful response. Flippancy, another pet peeve of Kakashi's, was always swiftly rewarded, yet when his sarcastically frustrated response of "No problem at all, sir," went unpunished, Yamato saw it as some sort of victory. Hound on the other hand…

"Well, I'll be damned," he said, "seems your boy's got a hard-on."

_Of course I do,_ he thought, _why wouldn't I? _

For each time Yamato raised his hips to inch forward, the rough cotton fabric of Kakashi's pants scraped against his cock which in turn led to a tightening of the leather straps around his shaft; the downward pull of the weight and the irritating jingle of that stupid bell whenever Hound pulled on the leash only compound his embarrassingly aroused state.

Hound roughly carded his fingers through Yamato's hair yanking his head up to get a better view of his scowl of pain. "Eh, I shouldn't be surprised," he said "it's obvious that you confused him Kakashi – what with those love taps you gave him earlier, he probably thought your pitiful excuse for a warm up was an extension of the massage."

_What a prick,_ thought Yamato as he tried one more time to grab the brush from his awkward position.

"Is it true that you've got a little woody Tenzou? Here, stand up and let me see," Kakashi said. "Don't be embarrassed now, I'm gonna see it at some point so you might as well get up and bring the brush to me."

Conceding defeat, he petulantly pitched himself from Kakashi's lap, dropped down hard on his knees and indignantly crawled over to where the brush taunted him.

And with every inch that took him further from them, Hound and Kakashi carried on a running commentary about his hairless, rosy cheeks, and thighs dappled with pink.

_I swear to the heavens above these two idiots are no better than the cool kids on the playground._

He grabbed hold of the implement as Hound and Kakashi continued to hoot and whistle like drunken longshoremen, and by the time he turned to face them, the handle of the brush dug into his hand so painfully that he feared it would snap in half.

_ Settle down now … destruction of an implement of punishment probably carries another penalty,_ he thought as he cautiously rose to his feet.

He still had enough of his wits left over to lower his eyes when he approached the grinning Kakashi and the finger pointing Hound and despite the humiliation, his entire body quivered with lust and need when he got close enough for Kakashi to reach out to examine him.

_Great! Now he's handling my dick – this is the part where my brain explodes, right?_

_No, gotta keep it together … just don't look down … don't look down!_

"Hound-san, I believe you're correct," was the detached, clinical tone of voice Kakashi used as he ran his fingers over the leather bindings and gently stroked the bound testicles. "No wonder you were doing so well earlier Tenzou … carrying on a coherent conversation showing no signs of breathlessness. Hmm," he said, grabbing hold of the proffered brush with his other hand. "Guess I wasn't being as effective as I thought." Tapping his thigh with his free hand he added, "I'll be sure to clear up any confusion this time around."

Yamato hesitated for a second, looking down into that deviously smiling face as the straps constricted around his cock. "Kakashi," he breathed, "sir … I –"

"Yes, Tenzou . . . you want to say something to me?"

"No sir," he said, with a sad shake of his bowed down head.

"Time's a wasting boy," said Hound as he wrapped the leash tighter around his fist and pulled harder; all the while, Kakashi's gentle hand raced along his forearm, pulling him slowly downward.

"Come along now, Tenzou – back over you go."

"And don't forget," he heard Hound say as he repositioned himself across Kakashi's lap.

"Once he's done with you . . . you're all mine."

**xxxoooxxx**

When at last he'd counted off the final stroke and Kakashi returned the hairbrush to its rightful place, Yamato was sweaty, breathless and misty eyed; his bottom - twin, throbbing globes of fire. He was positive, though his bathroom mirror would later confirm his assessment that Kakashi made sure to lay down several white hot, leathery patches of pain that would stand out from the landscape of red over the round, fleshy parts of his bottom.

At least the straps around his cock and balls had loosened somewhat.

"Is it my turn already?" came the eager voice from behind the mask. "By the way, admirable technique with the hairbrush Kakashi – pity you couldn't see how much he disliked it when you put your back into each stroke."

"It's alright," Kakashi laughed. "From the way he kept trying to twist away from the brush and the number of times he clenched those bright red cheeks, I could tell he wasn't appreciative of my hard work."

Struggling to catch his breath, Yamato couldn't miss the portentous noise of Hound cracking the knuckles of his free hand; only then did he remember Hound's earlier threat.

"Let's see now," Hound said, "how shall I amuse myself this time?" Tapping his foot on the floor as he looked skyward, Yamato and Kakashi could tell Hound already had a plan in mind.

"Ah yes," he said at last. "I know just the thing."

When Hound's hand disappeared inside the open pouch this time, Yamato's level of dread soared to the rafters.

Rising to his feet, Hound thumped the crown of Yamato's head saying, "I'm gonna need your assistance with this one, Kakashi, do you mind?"

"Of course not . . . I'm ever at your service, Hound-san."

Yamato didn't like the sound of that; they were being much too cooperative and affable. _A polite Hound and a jovial Kakashi – they'll be the figurative death of me. _

"Stand him up and then I'm gonna need you to stand behind him Kakashi."

_I'm not sure if I can take anymore,_ he thought as Kakashi and Hound graciously helped him to his feet.

_And yet . . . I crave more; my desire to please will gradually surpass my tolerance for the pain - what will become of me once they figure that out?_

His legs, weaker than water were practically useless; he felt himself slump like a drunkard against his captain's chest.

"Careful now," whispered Kakashi against the nape of his neck as he wrapped his arm around his waist. Drawing him closer to his body and running the soft bristles of the hairbrush over Yamato's chest and belly he said, "Don't worry, I've got you."

It was too much and Yamato willingly escaped into the area of his mind where the red hot borders of pain and the cool blue edges of pleasure rubbed against one another, liquefying as they bonded together and oozed toward him.

The stiff cotton fibers of the Kakashi's pants seemed to stab at his chastised bottom, still hot and tender from the hairbrush; the crack of his as, in perfect alignment with Kakashi's hard, metal zipper sent a surge of molten heat radiating from his balls throughout his body. The ringing of that damn bell irked and stimulated him when Hound wrapped another length of the leash around his fist and gave it a sharp tug.

_Adrenaline, _he thought, _that's all I need now, damn it! It's supposed to ready my body for action not make my dick harder._

The concave surface on the top button of Kakashi's pants pressed into the small of his back when he was pulled closer and as the bristles of the brush raked over one of his erect nipples, another heated flare shot through his groin; his shoulders relaxed against the well-muscled chest behind him.

"Hands on top of your head," ordered Hound. "That's a good boy," he said when Yamato quickly complied.

Hound, set to work, roughly pinching and twisting Yamato's other neglected nipple between the tips of his leather clad fingers; the more Yamato squirmed against the sensations, the more delighted Hound became, increasing the pressure of his fingers and yanking on the leash.

But he soon tired of that form of torture. "Kakashi," he growled, "link your arms through his and keep 'em pinned back for me would you? I got a feeling your boy's gonna squirm."

The object Hound retrieved from the pouch earlier, was hidden from view and as Yamato watched him squat down again, he felt another sharp tug on the length of leather attached to his binds; that damn bell was tinkling even louder now and the weight was yanking his nuts lower when Hound suddenly stood up and stomped his foot down.

It was at that precise moment Yamato understood why Kakashi allowed Hound to disrespect his home by keeping his sandals on.

You see an ANBU's sandals have small, retractable metal cleats attached to the soles which were designed to help shinobi maintain their footing over rocky terrain; those same cleats now dug into the floorboards, ensuring Hound could maintain a steady tension on the leather leash when it wasn't wrapped around his fist.

"You're full of surprises tonight aren't you Hound-san? Don't tell me ... that's not the same one, is it?"

"Yep, the very same. You remember, we picked up in a tack shop on the way back from the Land of Lightning almost twelve years ago." Moving closer, Hound laughed and said, "Those were the days, huh? Hey, do you remember when we . . .?"

While they chortled and teased each other about events which transpired on that long journey home so many years ago, Yamato's eyes raked over the short leather object Hound held out for Kakashi's inspection.

The only things he knew for sure was it was made of made of top grain leather, obviously very expensive and well maintained for its age; it smelled as if it had been recently reworked with a fresh application of mink oil too. As far as Yamato was concerned, it looked like a smaller version of the two tailed tawse Kakashi owned, though its handle was braided and looped back into the stock that it might comfortably fit around a man's wrist.

". . . different animal . . . same purpose," Hound said. Holding the small leather object closer to Yamato's face Hound wondered aloud, "I'll bet you've never seen one of these things before have you boy?"

Like everything else Hound dragged out of the pouch so far this evening, Yamato didn't dare venture a guess about what it was, for if he was incorrect, Hound would be sure to capitalize on the mistake.

"No sir," he said, "I don't believe I've ever seen anything like that before."

Kakashi chuckled softly behind him as Hound explained, "This is a quirt. It's a training device originally intended for horses. Since you're hung like one," he said, patting Yamato's cock, "it should work well on you too."

Both Kakashi and Hound seemed to find that bon mot extremely humorous; their laughter served to feed into his fear as he followed Hound's downward glance toward his captive cock.

Naturally, the aforementioned cock had a mind of its own, seemingly poking its deep purple head closer to Hound as if wanting to inspect the quirt for itself.

_No, he can't be serious about using that thing there!_

"It's quite a persuasive little tool to encourage proper behavior and performance," Hound assured him. "Yet . . . I'm not sure how effective it will be when applied to a rebellious jounin, like you, Tenzou."

Hound teased him, deliberately dragging the twin tails across Yamato's inquisitive cock, "What say we test it out?"

"Might I suggest you spread your legs wider for this one Tenzou? We wouldn't want Hound-san to miss his targets and strike me accidentally, now would we?"

Snapping his head to the right, even as he widened his stance, he husked, "Kakashi . . . please . . . don't let him -"

"Rules are rules Tenzou; Hound-san had the right to close the implement and the punishment as soon as you closed your eyes, remember?"

The quirt whistles through the air as Hound takes a few practice swings and Yamato's legs are shaking like a gelatin mold during an earthquake.

The very second Kakashi's arms tightened around his, one precisely aimed, underhanded flick of Hound's wrist sent a blinding blaze of pain shooting through his balls.

When finally the burst of bright light disappeared from behind his eyes, his knees buckled beneath him and his head rested against Kakashi's shoulder - the straps around his cock had damningly tightened.

"Oh come on," whined Hound. "Is that how you're going to act? I barely tapped him Kakashi . . . so what's he gonna do when I get serious?"

From the depths of his being, Yamato hissed, "I'll deal with it, sir!"

"Take the bass outta of your voice when you speak to me boy, unless of course, you **want** me to see it as an act of defiance."

He saw Hound tilt his head in wonder, he felt the rumble of his sinister laugh as it broke free of his mask and yet, these things gave him the strength to stand firm as he looked Hound squarely in the eye.

"Look how he's looking at me – like he wants to kick my ass or something. Foolish little boy. Pay attention Kakashi, I'm going to show you how to drive defiance out of him once and for all."

The second lash, true to Hound's word was just as precise as the first had been and unequivocally more painful; after the third and fourth strikes in rapid succession, Yamato was shamelessly grinding his ass into Kakashi's groin, desperately trying to escape the swiftly flying tails of the quirt, all the while feeling his captain's growing erection pressing into his left butt cheek.

Hound didn't spare a moment that he might catch his breath and he seemed to expect an immediate answer when he asked:

"Ready to tell us what took your mind off the mission now, boy?"

"No sir," he barked through the pain. "I have nothing to say."

Yamato could hear the smile in his voice when he said, "Very well, I could do this all night."

The next series of strikes landed directly across the head of his cock and took his breath away. Again and again Hound struck, up and down the length of his shaft, up and under his balls, as the straps holding him hostage constricted with each strike.

And then, another blast of warm breath rushed past his ear and he heard Kakashi say over the sounds of the whistling quirt and the tinkling bell,

"My, my Tenzou, what a naughty boy you are."

At this point in the game, woozy and strangely hungry for more of Hound's punishment – Yamato shocks himself to the core when these words tumble from his dry lips:

"Damn you Kakashi, shut the hell up!"

The roar of silence crashed against the three of them; a silence so eerie, Yamato could literally feel and see his skin crawl -the quirt came to rest atop Hound's shoulder and Kakashi sucked in a deep breath.

"What's this? Speaking so rudely to your senpai even as you're being punished?" The quirt slipped from its roost to hang limply in his hand. "Does your obstinacy know no bounds?"

Yamato felt as if his eyes were as wide as dinner plates now, as he watched Hound reach into his front pocket to draw out another object. The white mantle of authority Hound wore up until this point, slid from his shoulders to be rudely kicked away. His black, elbow length gloves offset pale biceps as he fingered a triangular shaped piece of metal between his fingers.

"I think you've really fucked up now, Tenzou," Kakashi said quietly.

Hound on the other hand, had nothing further to say as he leaned down and reached between Yamato's trembling legs to attach this new object to the tinkling bell - it was another lead weight, which pulled his balls further away from his body.

This time when Hound silently rose he began decorating the front of Yamato's thighs with ribbons of red as the quirt swung back and forth across his breastplate.

Watching the sweat glisten along his uncovered arms as his muscles tensed and relaxed with each swipe of the quirt, the makeshift leather cage tightened so rapidly Yamato feared he'd soon pass out.

"Not hearing an apology boy," says Hound between strikes. "Why is that?"

"Sir . . . Kakashi . . . I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry."

Fat, salty tears are rolling down his cheeks as the quirt's whistle is silenced . . . for the time being.

"Let him go Kakashi."

He hit the floor like a sack of rotten potatoes, which as it turns out was a terrible place to be as the piece of leather under Hound's boot was released and then pulled tighter when Hound stood over him again.

The tinkling of the bell had grown louder too and the combined weights struck the floor with great force.

"On your feet boy," the heavily breathing Hound sneered. Go; stand over there in front of the chair."

Every step drew out a pained huff of breath and when Yamato was finally able to stand at the appointed place, the red stripes crisscrossing his thighs and cock, the throbbing ache in his balls, and that goddamned loud bell ringing, made him seriously rethink his decision not to reveal what Hound wished him to confess.

"Kakashi," he hears Hound say as they both stand behind him, "tell me something. Which implement in that box does your boy hate most?"

"That's a tough one, but if I had to pick . . . I'd say, the tawse."

Yamato stiffened his shoulders and swallowed hard.

_He's lying again . . . why?_

"All right then, Tenzou, assume the position, and let's see if I've guessed correctly. Hound-san, would you mind fetching the two finger tawse for me?"

"Of course not . . . I'm ever at your service, Kakashi-san."

His palms, slick with sweat and hot against the cool wood, effortlessly slide to the rear of the seat as he spread his legs for stability. Beads of sweat run down his chest as he silently watches Hound, kneeling beside the chair and running his fingers over the thick tawse. The slap of leather against leather as Hound tests out the tawse against his palm makes his cock twitch.

"It's got quite a sting to it, "Hound triumphantly reports. "This is gonna be interesting to watch his smug expression change each time the fingers of the tawse wrap around those firm ass cheeks. You will do your best to make it enjoyable for me, won't you Kakashi?"

"I'll do my best, because, I'm ever at your service . . . Hound-san."

Yamato can hear Hound striding over to where Kakashi stood behind him, and with every step he takes, a raging fire shoots up a straight line from his balls to his brain, burning hotter and hotter as Kakashi and Hound come together to plot their next moves.

"Here you go," he heard Hound say. "Now don't mind me, I'll be standing right over there in front of your boy." The length of leather whizzed past Yamato's ankles when Hound skipped it under the chair. "Almost forgot about this thing," he said as he gave the leash a shake. "Now then, I have a few more questions for you boy."

"And Tenzou, since I imagine you don't wish to intentionally antagonize Hound-san again," came the measured voice of his captain, "do your best to keep your head up and your eyes open."

"I will, sir," he says as Hound stands before him taking up the slack in the leash.

xxxoooxxx

When the first wallop of the tawse finds its mark, Hound is standing right in front of him, one hand lightly gripping the back of the chair, the other pulling back on the leash.

"That was mighty tasty Kakashi," he says. "The open-mouthed silent scream, the struggle to keep his eyes fixed on me, it was top notch! You know, I'd buy tickets to see something like that again."

"Why thank you Hound-san. Let's see if I can get him to do it one more in this first set of thirty."

_First set? Thirty? I'll be crawling my skin or out of my mind long before then!_

"Carry on . . . and as for you, little puppy," said Hound giving him a chuckle under the chin, "why don't you tell me how many years you've worked with Kakashi?"

"Twelve, **augh**, it's been twelve years, sir."

"Kakashi, he was your mentor . . . is that correct?"

_Of course he was you jackass,_ he thinks, but answers, "Yes sir."

"And you . . . you admired him as your mentor, didn't you?"

"Yes sir, I . . . **Hah . . . geez! **. . . I did . . . sir."

"Ever make a tactical error during a mission?"

"Well, yes sir . . . once or **damn it** twice, when I was younger."

Suddenly, the coil of leather hit the floor and Hound left off the interrogation for a bit that he might walk around to check on Kakashi's progress, or so Yamato thought.

It didn't really matter what they doing; Yamato was determined to enjoy this reprieve for all it was worth.

One gloved hand smoothed over his left buttock while the right one was treated to the sensation of Kakashi's bare hand. He could hear them whispering behind him even when they stepped away to allow the heat of the tawse to sink down and spread through his body.

The next thing he knew, Hound was standing in front of him again. "You can almost fry an egg on your ass," he said. Titling up Yamato's chin he whispered, "I convinced Kakashi to only give you ten swats . . . providing you tell me what I want to know. Have we got a deal?"

Yamato pulled back to get a better look at the man in the mask. _What? Did they switch brains back there or something? _

"I don't know what to say to that, sir, but I can't . . . please, don't make say it sir."

Hound threw up his hands. "I tried . . . your boy's just too stubborn."

"No matter," was Kakashi's gruff reply. "He'll talk soon enough - all I have to do is provide him with the proper motivation."

If felt like Kakashi reached all the way back to the main gate to deliver the next wallop that damn near pushed him over the chair's back and into Hound's arms.

"Get back into position . . . now!" Kakashi growled.

Hound leaned down as did Yamato and he said, "I think he's a little jealous, seeing's how I got a more guttural reaction out of you earlier than he's gotten thus far. Yep, he's gonna really lay into you boy, and there's nothing I can do to help you."

_You want to help me? What the hell is going on here?_

"Anyway, where was I? Oh, right . . . tell me, _Tenzou, _have you ever been disciplined or written up by another squad leader for your inattentiveness?"

"Huh? **Sweet kami, **no sir, never . . .** shit!"**

The strikes of the tawse were coming closer together, their strength enhanced by an influx of chakra and sheer determination on Kakashi's part.

"What about your short term memory?" Hound asked. "Ever had problems with that?"

"Sir? No sir . . . at least . . . **ow.** . . I don't think I have."

"So," said Kakashi, "it's only when you're teamed with me and Hound that you have a problem . . . is that what you expect me to believe?"

"Yes sir, **fuck,** I mean, **aaah, aaah,** no sir."

"I think he's confused again, Kakashi, because I distinctly remember an incident in which he did the very same thing that he's being punished for right now. Is it starting to come back to you _Tenzou_?"

Through tear stained eyes, Yamato shook his head, his eyes pleading with Hound not to make him relive that day.

"Don't worry," he said. "I've locked that particular memory away for myself . . . not even Kakashi knows what happened. Although I'm sure he'll be pleased to find out that I disciplined you for your stupidity right there in the field, 'member?"

_How could I forget? You stripped me naked, tied me to a tree and took a switch to every part of my backside._ "Yes sir, I remember."

"That was ten," Kakashi said. "Think I'll switch sides now, but do go on Tenzou . . . Hound-san, I'd like to know the story ended."

"So, what do you think," Hound asked. "Should I share that memory with Kakashi right now?"

"Sir, **crap,** no, please sir."

"Then I guess you're ready to tell us what happened during this last mission, correct?"

"Hound-san, **aargh**, don't make me -"

"Why on earth," Kakashi snapped, "are you being so pigheaded, Tenzou? You afraid I'm gonna laugh at you . . . despise you or something?"

"Yes, sir **oofh**."

"Listen," Kakashi says as the fourteenth strike lands, "this is how I look at it, better to embarrass yourself for a few minutes by confessing, than to have Hound drag it out of you and hold it over your head for years -"

"He's not going to tell us anything Kakashi; matter of fact, he's enjoying his punishment too much."

"No, no,** aaah** sir I'm not . . ."

"You calling me a liar, boy?" Hound asked when he jerked the leash as the fifteenth strike landed.

"No sir!"

_It's not going to get any better_, his mind yells. _Goddamn it, tell them the truth!_

By now Yamato's mind had shifted back into that infinite space of euphoric arousal . . . seconds away from orgasm physically denied and stridently sought after.

Hound tugged on the leash again and grabbed him by his chin. "His pupils are blown wide open, so either he's having a stroke or he's getting off on the pain."

Kakashi crept up next to Hound to give his kohai the once over. "Does look rather blissful, doesn't he?"

"Your boy's a glutton for punishment, how fortunate; he likes taking it . . . we like dishing it out." And look at this," he says pointing down at Yamato's cock, "he's leaking like a busted faucet."

"My goodness," he distantly hears Kakashi say, "the head of your cock is a deep maroon color - it looks swollen and quite tender. Does it hurt Tenzou?"

"Oh god . . . yes, yes sir."

"Would you like me to release those straps for you, Tenzou?"

"Please sir," he begs without shame.

He can hear himself whimpering, mewling almost, like a cat in heat as Kakashi seems to ponder his condition; he cares nothing for it for he can see the concern in Kakashi's eye, he can tell by his posture that he's ready to put an end to his punishment. A timid glance over Kakashi's right shoulder, and there's Hound, pacing back and forth in a tight circle, patently pissed that Kakashi might call their little game to a halt.

"Why of course," the sinful and deep voice of his captain whispers as he positions his hand over the improvised cage of leather.

Like a fast moving summer wind that comes before the storm, Kakashi's face and voice changed.

"I'll be more than happy to help you, Tenzou," he snapped, crushing his cock in his firm grip, "just as soon as you tell us what we want to know."

TBC

And yes, gentle readers; I am officially . . . a bitch. Thank you.


	8. Dance of the Silver Sadists: Lead

Pain receptors pushed to their limit, transmit incomplete and indistinct messages.

With each truncated breath, his lungs burn white hot even as his chest is frigid like a glacier's base.

Tremulous arms and legs quake under the strain of a gawkily adopted pose – one side of his body wracked with violent spasms, the opposite side hangs in a state of atony.

_Inhale._

But off in the distance, a bright light shone, flickering around the edges of this, his personal hell; the bright light which waxed and waned was nothing less than subtle spikes in the chakra pattern above him and to his left.

_Exhale._

Yamato knew that chakra like he knew his own face; he'd trusted that chakra for as long as his memory held firm. And now, the chakra he knew and trusted was in disarray.

Kakashi, the _real_ Kakashi, was embroiled in quiet turmoil all his own.

_Inhale._

_I've felt this before . . . . I've seen the end result of this struggle only once. _

Winding down from a hellish mission where Hound took the lead, he'd watched from the safety of an empty equipment room as Hound ripped Kakashi from nave to nostril, refusing banishment to his dark, cold abode.

_Exhale._

Optimism at a time like this, was a fool's gambit, and yet Yamato followed the fitful stream of chakra flowing from Kakashi like a weary nomad to an oasis.

_Mercy_, he convinced himself, _mercy _was gaining ground on cruelty . . . yes, he was sure of it now.

He lifted his head to look directly at his captain without askance or waiting for acknowledgement. The look on Kakashi's face, his brow furrowed, his jaw clenched, and his lips compressed into a thin, pink line - these, individually and collectively rekindled the dying cinders of hope.

_ Yes_ . . . he could taste it in the air around him – _mercy _. . . he could feel it stretching out its arms to enfold him. _Yes,_ like a white linen wrapped angel, he could see it approaching so clearly now:

And so could Hound.

"Now isn't the time wimp out on me, Kakashi," hissed the fervid voice beneath the mask.

An apathetic half turn of Kakashi's head, like someone roused from mental torpor - the protracted rise of a single eyebrow, as if questioning his own motives; hope and fear clawed at Yamato's gut with every millimeter that the single grey brow rose. It was as if fire were shut up in his bones, soldering him in place though he felt like jumping out of his skin.

_Inhale._

A breath, weary as Kakashi opened his mouth to speak – it was for naught, cut short by Hound's verdict:

"I'm not about to cut him loose either, so don't ask."

_Exhale._

He watched it_ – mercy, _creeping like a shadow across his captain's face until it coalesced into a rigid curtain of _duty, _the obligation to finish what he'd begun.

Fretful now, Yamato saw the light of benevolence in Kakashi's eye cloud over and fade to black.

But when the tawse tumbled from Kakashi's hand, Yamato was certain his punishment had reached its end.

"Wimp out?" Kakashi laughed. "Cut him loose? Why, Hound-san, that's the furthest thing from my mind."

Silently, Yamato strangled on a breath, unsure of which way it was supposed to go.

He turned in on himself, as if bludgeoned with a weighted club; his body crumpled slightly, his shoulders and chin dipped low as a rushing, boiling breath flew from him.

"As a matter of fact," Kakashi said, "Tenzou's stubbornness has grown tiresome . . . even for a patient man like me."

And just like that . . . mercy took wing and Yamato, came undone. Like a weeping willow he stood, disappointment anchored him in place as his limbs swayed in the shifting breezes of Kakashi's compassion.

"Yeah, he's an inconsiderate little prick too," said Hound. "God only knows how long it'll take me to clean his grubby sweat stains out of these fine pieces of leather."

The constant drone of Hound's complaints wither into nothingness as Kakashi reached down to cradle Yamato's flagging erection in the palm of his hand.

Wide brown eyes follow the purposeful movements of the pale thumb, loitering around the underside of his suffused cock and delicately capturing samples of the viscid fluid, sluggishly oozing from the tiny slit.

His captain's threatening tone and stance notwithstanding, Yamato feels his body react predictably to the unexpected stroking though his mind is screaming for him not to trust the gentle overtures.

This disorienting and unmerited display of familiarity and dare he think it … _ownership_, it felt so wrong, so improper and yet that's exactly what made it so right.

Every time Kakashi rubbed his thumb up and over the frenulum, Yamato's hips thrust themselves lewdly forward. His arms were poised to drape themselves over his captain's shoulders, yet he stopped short, knowing Hound would rip them from their sockets should he attempt such a thing.

Instead, his hands fall to grip the back of the chair - his cock, aching and pulsing in time with his rampaging heartbeat, whenever he snuck a glimpse of the sly smile on Kakashi's lips and the wicked gleam in his eye.

_He's making a game of it now,_ he blearily surmised when Kakashi daubed the glistening substance up and around the pulsing crown - pausing his movements now and then, Kakashi tested the tackiness of the fluid between his thumb and forefinger before slathering what remained across the pads of his other fingers.

"You know, I'm inclined to believe that 'this' is no ordinary sweat," Kakashi said at last. "Take a closer look, tell me what you think, Hound-san."

In the lower half of his swimming vision, Yamato sees the tip of Hound's index finger advancing – unable to thwart the shudder that shakes him, he rolls with the feeling of anticipation when Hound swipes at a dangling fat droplet. There's a mix of pain and pleasure as the leather binds constrict once more when Hound lazily swirls his finger over the head of his turgid, straining cock.

"Definitely not sweat," Hound announces even as he continues messily coating his gloved fingers. "Hmm . . . he's a moukton user . . . correct?"

Kakashi nodded. "Hound-san, you know full well Tenzou's unique in that respect -"

"So then," said Hound cocking his head to side, "should we assume that this … 'fluid' is sap of some kind?" Round and round he dragged his fingers, ever so often flicking at the crown with his thumbnail. "And if this stuff is sap, I wonder what it might taste like? Ten bucks says it's bitter . . . but, I could be wrong."

Hound runs his the whole of his hand down the bound shaft and up again, coaxing out a few more dewdrops as he squeezes the slick crown against his palm. "Maybe it's salty … maybe it's sweet. How will we ever know for sure?"

Yamato cut his eyes to Hound, who tapped at the chin portion of the mask with his other hand and then back to Kakashi, who seemed to share Hound's bogus sense of wonder.

_Really? Is this the absolute best these geniuses could come up with?_

He had but a moment to school his features before they caught wise - rolling his eyes at their lame humor or letting a sour 'fuck off' look register on his face would only incite Hound to do god knows what to him.

Still, the stupidly brave part of himself wanted to reach out and slap both of them upside the head.

Exasperation, what little of it remained, washed over him like a neap tide when Hound released him and Kakashi went back to his work of sensual tyranny.

A simple brush of his captain's fingers over and under the ruddy crown, left Yamato a panting, glassy-eyed puddle.

Yet that wasn't enough to content Kakashi – now he varied the direction, speed and pressure of his fingertips as he dragged another line of moisture from the weeping slit and siphoned a series of moans and grunts from Yamato's reluctant lips.

Since he'd already given up control over the movement of his hips, Yamato gladly lost himself in the rhythm of their smooth rocking motion; he willingly yielded to the pleasure as his body begged for more of the delicious friction each time Kakashi kneaded the sensitive seam connecting the collar of his cock to the shaft.

Suspended on the brink of orgasm, swinging over a pit of gratification by the strings of his captain's whims, Yamato knew he couldn't hold back much longer:

And so did Kakashi.

That husky throated laugh, sent vibrations surging through the hand which kept him near the point of no return. Suddenly, gentle strokes morphed into searing pinches and the teasing fingers headed south where they turned into the cupped bowl of Kakashi's palm, nestling his overfilled sac.

A sough, so plaintive, so desperate floated over their heads when Kakashi gave the tender gonads a slight squeeze.

"Why Tenzou, you're purring like a little kitten," Kakashi mocked. "It almost sounds as if you're eager to tell us something."

_ "Damn it! You should have known better_," screamed that tinny voice inside his head. "_These bastards promised they'd make you talk one way or the other … and since brute force didn't work_-"

"Hound-san, you read lips better than I do . . . any idea what he's trying to say?"

His jaw was snapped closed by the hand that wrenched his head in the opposite direction; pleasure shrank back and ran screaming when caught in the cross hairs of Hound's bright red Sharingan.

"Oh, that's simple," came the thoughtful response from under the mask. "He's dying to tell us what 'this stuff' tastes like, but he's struggling to find the right words. Am I right about that boy?"

Hound raises and lowers his jaw in a nodding motion, laughing as he makes Yamato his frightened marionette. With his other hand, inches from his captive's parched lips Hound snarled, "You know how I hate to be kept waiting boy. And look at that . . . you've made an awful mess of my glove," he said pressing his fingers to Yamato's lips.

"Go on then . . . clean it off."

Stunned eyes land on an area smudged wet and shiny against crinkled black leather and Yamato felt a right fool when his tongue crept forward to obey.

Inasmuch as the rational part of him wanted to protest this treatment, there was an overwhelming urge to reach out and grab hold of that firm hand that he might suckle each finger like a hungry calf to a teat. And as loudly as the proud part of himself wanted to curse them both for the humiliation they gleefully heaped upon him, the flat surface of his tongue was more so committed to eradicating all evidence of his neediness.

Working in harmony, the exact second Hound's finger breached the seam of his lips, Kakashi released his hold on the low hanging sac - his deft fingers returning to attack the sensitive area beneath the head of his cock.

_Inhale._

Again the voice inside his head screeched a warning. _"You twisted little idiot! If you spill your seed … you spill your secret – is that what you really want to do?"_

_Exhale._

_Yes _he thought_, I mean no . . . have to focus on something… anything else . . . but it's been so long, and it feels so –_

"Don't make love to it." Hound snapped. "Just clean up your mess, boy."

When half lidded eyes settled on the stark white mask, its eye holes rimmed with crimson, Yamato took the only course of action available – a one-sided game of chicken with the volatile Hound would keep his mind occupied while Kakashi relentlessly toyed with his body.

Determined not to waver, nor blink, Yamato set himself, watching for a glimmer of twisted pleasure or a squint of disgust in the lone grey eye that stared back at him from inside the mask.

A page from Kakashi's book he ripped - the flat surface of his tongue lavishing lengthy laves and short bursts of spirited licking where only the tip of his tongue darted between Hound's fingers.

But there was nothing, not even a flutter of Hound's eyelids to chronicle his disdain or mild amusement.

And just as Kakashi had done earlier, Yamato continually varied the pace, pressure and location of his tongue, gifting Hound with a flurry of timid licks or wanton lapping.

Still, no response registered either in Hound's eyes nor his body.

Though his pride withered with each attempt, he found that capitulation to the shame bestowed an explosion of tastes and sensations he never expected. Against the nubs of his tongue splashed the tang of weapon oil and tiny barbs of metallic shavings scrubbed against his teeth.

He pulled his head back to deliver a final, languid pass of his tongue from the web of Hound's glove to the tip of his finger.

_There! There it was! _

Victory over and liberty from the demands of his body was his, for the moment when a barely perceptible tremor flashed through the stolid Hound. The Sharingan was hidden from view and Hound's natural eye widened; whether in shock or arousal, Yamato couldn't be sure.

What he saw next was rage when Hound snatched away his hand and demanded to know:

"Wipe that stupid grin off your face and tell me what it tasted like, boy."

There was a moment of groundless triumph, a fleeting giddiness in which to bask. "Saddle soap, sir," he breathed out. "Fresh earth, old oil and something else … something bitter."

"Well, aren't we fortunate Kakashi? We've got the only pussy in the entire village that can articulate its thoughts."

"You've made a mess of my fingers too, Tenzou," he heard Kakashi say. "It would be the height of rudeness if you didn't clean them as well."

Even as Kakashi smeared Yamato's dry lips with his own essence, Hound leaned in closer, menacing.

His Adam's apple, keener than a three sided stone, gouged at his throat when he swallowed down his deep need. Quick as lightening, the corners his mouth were prized open to accept both Hound and Kakashi's tactile members.

Side by side, warm flesh and cool leather exerted firm pressure on his tongue, never reaching back far enough to gag him; the leather restraints wrapped around his cock, squeezed ever tighter as he moved his tongue in an halting back and forth motion to scrub them both clean.

His eyes fluctuate between them and a trickle of saliva escapes his mouth, slowly rolling down his stubbly chin.

He didn't care if he never drew in another breath – the need to cum, so great and pressing, made him stagger under the weight of his own stifled moans.

Leather teasingly brushed against the inside of his cheek when Hound crooked his finger prior to withdrawal and before he could stop himself, before he could spare a thought for what his senpai would think, Kakashi's finger was sucked deeper inside his mouth with an abandon that unnerved him.

"That's my good boy," whispered Kakashi, his lips so close to Yamato's ear, while his other hand slithered down his shaft and over the binding straps until his blunted nails dug deep into the posterior root of the Yamato's balls.

The shades of his eyelids, half-mast with expectation, popped open when Hound tugged at the leash and set that accursed bell to ringing once more.

The skin on his back quailed when he felt Hound move to stand behind him.

_The tawse . . . it's still the on floor! Oh my god . . . please don't let him be the one to pick it up!_

"This is the last time we'll offer you a choice boy," Hound growls against his back, "so either you answer our original question right now and leave here with a case of blue balls -"

"Or else," said Kakashi, retracting his fingers from the heat of Yamato's mouth, "I'll have to come up with some other ways for you to entertain us."

Suddenly, the diaphanous cocoon of sensuality which encased him till now, ruptured with a bang - his mind clear, as the extremity of his predicament slapped him square in the face.

"So, what's it gonna be Tenzou?"

"Senpai . . . I can't answer the question. Please understand that . . . I just -"

"So be it," Kakashi snapped.

What followed could only be described as a sad, frustrated expiration as those pale fingers wiped down Yamato's chest.

A yelp of pain resounded in the room when Kakashi grabbed hold the bound testicles in the palm of his other hand, exerting enough pressure to make Yamato rise up on the balls of his feet.

"In all the years I've known you," said Kakashi deftly aligning his other hand beneath Yamato's jaw, "you've never failed to carry out an order -"

"Don't let him play you with those pleading brown eyes Kakashi. Can't you see he's depending on your kindness to -?"

"Kindness?" "Humpf, I'm afraid that ship just hoisted anchor. What a pity for you, Tenzou."

Though Kakashi was still wearing the same crooked grin and affecting the same bored expression, his body language bellowed aggression and wrath set free from its harness. That look in his eye, seldom seen by allies and feared by his enemies, was now directed like an arrow – straight through Yamato's heart.

_"For god's sakes man, _yells the panicked voice in his head_, "don't you see how close he is to his boiling point?" _

_"Fuck the consequences! Just say it!"_

**_TMTC TMTC TMTC TMTC_**

Terror whistled along his insides and dropped down into the basement of Yamato's stomach like a boulder off a cliff when he heard and felt Hound's presence backing away from him. His brain kick started itself into self-preservation mode … a step or two backward and he collided with Hound's whipcord lean body.

Kakashi let his eye drift from his kohai's face as he folded his arms across his chest and glanced over Yamato's shoulder.

"Hound-san, did I ever tell you that Tenzou here is an excellent dancer?"

_What the hell's he talking about now?_

"Your boy," spluttered Hound, "a dancer? That's impossible. Dancers have superb posture, they move with an otherworldly grace . . . your boy can barely walk without scraping his knuckles against the pavement."

"Oh, but it's true, and if you'll spare me a few minutes," Kakashi said, stooping to retrieve the tawse, "I'll see if I can dig up some appropriate music. Meanwhile, why don't you prepare the dance floor for Tenzou's performance?"

Watching him rise and turn on his heel, panic coursed through Yamato's body like an electric current.

Between one swallow and the next, Hound wrapped around arm his waist. There was scarcely enough time to think, much less to acknowledge the glint of steel before the edge of a razor sharp kunai pressed into the left side of his throat.

"All right now boy," slithered Hound's words inside his ear, "no sudden moves."

The arm around his waist seemed to burn itself into his skin, though the cool ceramic of the mask against the right side of his face sent a chill through him. "You're a fool, _Tenzou … _an animal, driven by its instincts. Mind you, I understand, I can even appreciate it. Not to worry, I'm not gonna kill you because of it – you're far too amusing to watch."

Contrary to his words, the kunai pressed deeper into his flesh. "You know, it's been a long time since I've seen Kakashi this pissed off. Need I remind you of the savagery he's capable of ... especially when something or somebody he cares about forces him to shut down?"

"No sir," came the tiny whisper through tight lips.

"Hell . . . he even scares me when he gets like this; there's no telling what he might do next."

Hound's body tenses against him - the arm around his waist pulls in tighter even as the kunai stings against his throat.

"I tried to help you earlier," he whispered, "and you pissed all over my efforts. Now there's not a damn thing I can do or say to control him until that anger finds a suitable target."

"Sir, please – I promise…I'll tell you whatever you want to know -"

"Oh, I know you will … but aint no turning back now.

Foolish little boy," he laughed. "Looks like you feared the wrong one of us."

Notes:

Atony: lack of tone or energy; muscular weakness.

Askance: suspicion, mistrust, or disapproval.

Moukton: a jutsu whereby two elemental natures (water and earth) are combined to produce an entirely different nature; in Yamato's case, he is able to produce fully grown trees, or beams of wood from any point of his body. This ability can be used both offensively, to bind and hold an enemy or defensively to shield himself and others from danger.

Frenulum (anatomical): the small band of tissue under the glans penis that connects the foreskin to a mucous membrane which in turn coats the glans penis; this mucous membrane secretes a thin layer of mucus which keeps the penis and the underside of the foreskin moist and lubricated. The frenulum helps contract the foreskin over the penis. That's a mouthful (pun not intended). For an uncircumcised man, this highly innervated piece of connective tissue is extremely sensitive and responsive to the slightest pressure.

Sough: a rushing, rustling or murmuring sound.


	9. Dance of the Silver Sadists: Follow

What on earth is Kakashi thinking about as he puts his kohai through his paces? Come along dear readers as we get a glimpse inside the workings of his mind - but remember:

"A ninja must see through deception. I'm telling you this because … you think you get it which is not the same as actually getting it … get it?"

-Hatake Kakashi

The _slap and swoosh_ of heavy leather whipping over wooden slats...labored breaths, pained gasps and elongated moans of distressed pleasure…

these were the sounds which pushed him down the mouth of a darkened hallway.

His steps hobbled by visions of wide brown eyes, brimming with equal parts trust, terror and defiance...

the rhythm of his footfalls thrown off as he remembered those pursed lips, hurling accusations unspoken… damn near tripped over his own feet as images of Tenzou's restrained and dripping arousal flashed before his eyes…

_No … I can't turn back … can't undo what's done._

A heart discordant – a conscience skewered ... a mind in chaos - he paused for a second, his hands on his hips.

_I expected a minim of resistance... even made allowances for his rebellion … why hasn't he given up yet?_

The smell of fear and sweat floated down the hallway and tapped him on the shoulder.

_Right … Hound holds his mind in a genjutsu - by now, Tenzou's accepting Hound's thoughts as his own. Shit! And I left him out there with that sociopath… I have to end this fast!_

The force of Hound's voice falling from the ceiling and lodging inside his head, slammed him against the wall - the tone of his voice as shards of venom, nailed him in place.

"_What a lyin' sack of shit you are Kakashi._

_For god's sake ... look at yourself man!_

_You're sweatin' like a whore in church and your dick's hard as a rock_

_'cause you're enjoying his pain as much as he is."_

The moment Kakashi raised his hands to cover his ears, Hound's hot breath and proximity soldered him to the wall.

"I'm not Tenzou," he whispered, "so stop fuckin' with my mind. This ends right now Hound!"

Pushing himself from the wall, the world around him suddenly went black - a thick band of steel pressed against his throat, forcing his focus into the eyes of a madman; metal shackles sprang from the drywall behind him, trapping his hands beside his head and a well-placed knee digging into his groin, stilled his movements.

"_With each act of his obedience, I grow stronger and your 'control' over me lessens,_" Hound breathed.

"_And unlike you, sentiment has no effect on my judgement. _

_Soon ... very soon, my desires will consume his ... and yours too."_

"I swear to the gods Hound … if you hurt him, I'll-"

_"__You'll what? Banish me to the Cimmerian shade? _

_Kill me? _

_You make me sick, ya spineless little pussy! _

_Don't you understand?_

_You __need__ me to do what you can't … to deliver what you want-"_

"No! Not like this!"

Into a black and tangled morass, Hound's laughter dragged him.

_"__Pushing him to the point of surrender … _

_testing the limits of his submission - _

_that always got you off before didn't it, Kakashi?"_

"Shut up!"

Once more, Hound's laughter, crueler than the grave, pierced his flesh hotter than poisoned senbons.

_"__I know exactly what you want Kakashi, _

_because I want it too. _

_Think of the fun we'll have - _

_watching him fall to knees, begging us for forgiveness with tears in his eyes-"_

"I said shut up damn it!"

_"__Those lips of his …_

_wrapped around our cock, _

_sucking down our cum like a greedy hummingbird does nectar_

_… __offering up his sweet ass for us to plunder-"_

"Enough!"

_"__I __am__ you Kakashi … the shadows inside you _

_find embodiment in me..._

_all of your depraved needs are made manifest in me."_

"You're insane, Hound -"

_"__Am I or is it that you can't stand to see what you really look like? _

_Maybe you're jealous, because I know how to handle him. _

_Knowing he prefers me over you ... too much for you to take, is it?"_

Hound steps back, folding his arms across his chest as he does, intently watching his prey struggle against his bindings.

_"__You know, Kakashi… I was holding a kunai to his throat for a while after you left us alone._

_His body was trembling against ours, _

_his cock was testing the strength of its restraints. _

_Damn shame you missed it."_

"I'm ordering you to let him go Hound - you've taken this too far."

_"__Hmm… I think not. _

_Relax … he's still safe inside my genjutsu… _

_for the moment."_

As the bindings melt away, Kakashi lunges forward, his arms grasping at the thin, chilly air where Hound once stood. And from the living room he hears Hound command:

"Hold your arms out in front of you … palms facing each other. Gotta get you squared away quickly before Kakashi comes back."

Suddenly, images of a compliant Tenzou are projected before his eyes; Hound's Sharingan leaves out no detail - helplessly, Kakashi watches as Tenzou's tongue swipes over his lips - his arms raising in concert as he hastens to obey.

_Shit, I'm screwed! If I go back now, Hound will overtake me and I'll be forced to carry out his bidding; if I leave Tenzou defenseless for much longer - oh god … hate to think what Hound would do to him just to spite me._

He's standing before his destination before he realizes how he got there - his heart drumming against his rib cage, his fingers clawing at the door frame, absorbing its strength ... bleeding out his vacillating will.

Over the threshold and into the semi darkness he flung himself - his back grazing the cool interior wall as he ducked inside.

All the bravado ... the swagger, they slid from him as a snake shedding its skin, crashing to the floor, shattering into millions of iridescent pieces as Hound continued his taunting:

_"__You __need__ me, Kakashi…_

_to do what you can't …_

_to get what you really want -"_

"No! Your presence I allowed, that his confession might come speedily. Just do as I've commanded because I'm still in control here, Hound!"

Just then, the old wooden chair skidded across the room, smashing into the kitchen table with a loud bang.

With the soft click of a switch, light stampeded into the stillness of his cold, empty bedroom. With his eyes squeezed shut, Kakashi choked down a confounded laugh – for Hound's overbearing personality and his own need to save face had him painted into a corner.

_Calm down, _he thought_. I made doubly sure that Tenzou won't suffer any permanent damage. Before I left, I reinforced a chakra cushion around his genitals just to be on the safe side. Those leather straps wrapped around his cock and balls . . . the weights … they're real and yet, just another part of the illusion._

He leaned his head back against the wall and once more, increasingly vivid and salacious visions of his kohai paraded through his mind; he could almost reach out and wipe away the sweat glistening atop bistre tinted shoulders. His mind's eye followed each drop of moisture as it trickled down defined pectorals ... over and around dusky nipples that invited his lips to taste, touch and tantalize.

Kakashi shook his head.

_No, can't dwell on that now … need to think clearly._

Still, the images persisted, flashing through his brain like scenes from a naughty nickelodeon; the quivering thighs, kissed by the quirt's lashes sporting bright, rubicund stripes – the firm, rounded buttocks, painted red by the hairbrush and warm to the touch; it was too much at once - absently Kakashi traced a finger around his own stiff nipple, pinching it ever so slightly.

He let out a breath when the image of Tenzou's thick cock paused on the picture screen of his mind; bound and weeping, silently begging for attention, pleading for release. Meanwhile, as Tenzou's bitten off moans rumbled in his ears, his other hand slowly traveled downward, grazing the top of his pants – hesitant to reach inside - knowing one touch would not be enough to satisfy.

And then from the living room he heard that tiny brass bell ring – through Hound's eyes he saw Tenzou's eyes glazed over with lust; his voice, meek as he said:

"Yes sir, I understand. Kakashi's anger with me is justified. I will endure whatever punishment he deems necessary."

With no time to properly unbutton his pants Kakashi jammed his hand inside – the top button flying across the room, landing inches from the armoire.

And now, the same blunt fingernails which nipped Tenzou's orgasm in the bud, frantically dug into the space beneath the flared head of his own cock. The pain, barely holding him in check, as pearly beads of pre-cum transude into his crooked fingers.

_Oh god, it's true_ … _Tenzou's submission always ripped through me, leaving me like this. My strength is dwindling and Hound's will encroaches on mine … if I just inflict a little more pain …_

His imagination pressed him closer to the flat surface behind him and now he could feel Tenzou's hot, wet mouth sucking at the head of his cock in the same hungry manner that he'd sucked on his finger earlier.

All the while Hound's voice kept repeating the same phrase in his mind:

"_Focus on what lies ahead Kakashi –_

_how sweet will be our reward whenever we choose to take it_."

An aggrieved huff escaped his lips as his fingers clumsily slide down, encircling the base of his cock like a vise.

_No! I can't do this, _he thought as his eyes snapped open_. I'll be no better than you, Hound._

He wrenched his hand free, his head craning in the direction of the living room at the sound of a kunai impacting solid wood.

_I have to move … have to intercede before it's too late!_

Wiping away the evidence of his concupiscence, he traced a path to his front pants pocket; sticky fingers dove inside and ran down the hardened steel key which rested there. The armoire loomed large in his eyes as he lifted his head slightly.

_Forgive me Tenzou – this is the only way there is to save you._

_**TMTC TMTC TMTC TMTC TMTC**_

"Hold your arms out in front of you, palms facing each other," Hound commanded. "Gotta get you squared away quickly before Kakashi comes back."

Absently Yamato complied, the whole of his attention concentrated on the room down the hall where a slice of light illumined the dark passageway. Scarcely a flinch had he when the old wooden chair crashed into the kitchen table. He took no notice of the lengths of leather being secured around his wrists – he paid no mind to the tinkling bell, even as its noise grew louder and the weights grew heavier. He didn't even blink when the same kunai Hound used against his throat earlier landed blade first into a wooden slat beside his foot.

"Yes sir, I understand. Kakashi's anger with me is justified. I will endure whatever punishment he deems necessary."

In the distance he heard only the groan of a squeaky hinge as it turned on itself; shortly thereafter came the unmistakable sound of wood sliding against wood.

"Uh oh," said Hound. "That can't be a good thing. I can tell by the look in your eyes, and the tense set of your shoulders that you know exactly where Kakashi is in that room and you know what he's doing in there too, don't you boy?"

"Yes sir," he answered a bit too quickly. "I know."

_That wasn't the sound of an ordinary closet door, _he thought_… it was the armoire. The jibe about my ability to dance . . . and the music - it all makes sense now._

Laughing, Hound turned away, striding toward the abandoned utility pouch. "They say, 'fear sharpens the senses and heightens one's awareness;' my, my, my … this is gonna be interesting."

Interesting wasn't the word Yamato would use in this situation – Kakashi's anger coupled with what the armoire held meant he was in for a period of pain like he'd never experienced at his captain's hands before.

You see, long ago, as their ritual of discipline and punishment was being established, Kakashi led him on a tour of his home; so thrilled was he to be inside senpai's bedroom that he never took seriously what he was being shown that day.

As sweat ran down alongside his ear, he remembered watching Kakashi fish around the inside of his pants pocket, before finally pulling out the weirdest looking silver key he'd ever seen and unlocking the armoire's doors.

There were only three items stored inside the unassuming piece of furniture; ANBU uniforms, weapons and a large lacquered box filled with blank scrolls - nothing out of the ordinary or any different from the items Yamato himself kept in a locked closet at his own home. However, when Kakashi pushed the row of uniforms to other side and sent a pulse of chakra into the rear wall, a hidden panel rolled down, revealing two horizontal drawers and a vertical compartment which made up the corner of the armoire.

The first drawer housed a collection of riding crops, rattan canes and razor strops, all of them arranged by length and weight; the second drawer held polished wooden paddles of various hardwoods. And when the corner panel was turned about, an array of dressage whips, switches, and bundles of birches spread out before his disbelieving eyes.

Even now, he remembered teasing his senpai for being a bigger pervert than everyone thought he was; even now, he remembered laughing at himself when his fingers ghosted over the implements and willing away an erection.

'_Say what will about me_,' Kakashi told him back then, '_but I hope the day never comes when I'm forced to use any of these for your correction … because I promise Tenzou, you will regret it.'_

That damned bell was getting louder as Hound yanked the end of the leash through the finger grip of the kunai by his foot.

_Thunk!_

The sound of honed steel impacting solid wood drew him back to the present as his arms were wrenched above his head; he had no other choice but to rise up on the balls of feet to maintain his balance. Mystified, he watched Hound move swiftly, attaching two shorter leather leads to the one that dangled from the ceiling.

_Thunk! Thunk!_

Two more kunai sunk into the floorboards to his left and right, perfectly equidistant to one another. Hound was a blur as he secured the leads with a D-ring through the finger grips of each kunai.

"There now," said Hound as he turned to face him, "all is in readiness."

Loud noises flowed down the hall and spilled into the living room; he and Hound craned their necks in the direction of the room.

The first was the sound of a window as it was prized opened, and then the noise of leaves rustling.

After a moment's silence, there came other strange sounds -as far as Yamato could tell, it sounded like a stiletto knife flicking open - what followed sounded more like a scythe slicing through tall weeds.

"Sounds like he's gonna lay into you but good when he gets back," said Hound while he walked around him, checking the tension of the leads and the integrity of thin leather binds around Yamato's cock and balls.

The light from down the hall, extinguished now and measured slaps of bare feet approached. The distinctly eerie noise of something thin and reedy cut through the air as Kakashi drew near.

Hound simply laughed and said:

"May the gods have mercy on you boy - 'cause Kakashi sure as hell won't."

Tsk, tsk gentle readers . . . surely you didn't think Kakashi would seriously harm his little kohai on purpose, did you?

NOTES:

Minim: something very small or insignificant.

Cimmerian: very dark; gloomy.

Transude: to pass or ooze through pores, or small holes as a fluid.

Morass: any confusing or troublesome situation, especially one from which it is difficult to free oneself.

Bistre: a brown pigment, extracted from the soot of wood; a yellowish to dark brown color.

Concupiscence: sexual desire, lust; ardent, sensuous longing.


	10. Dance of the Sepia Masochist

Torn between doing that which was expedient and right for Tenzou and that which would be hazardous to his own health and safety, Kakashi dropped to his knees before the open armoire.

_Never thought this day would come again. Here's hoping Tsunade remembers how to repair the damages._

Time was winding down.

Digging through the open container before him, Kakashi gathered up three more of the smaller scrolls, clumsily jamming them inside his pockets. Nauseous and lightheaded he stood, the chosen implements clutched in his sweaty palm.

As the tumbler turns inside the lock, he hears the chains of Hound's power skitching down the pitch black hallway - the shadows await him, their teeth sharp as knives, dripping with the poison of Hound's violent nature. He's reeling under the power of Hound's power – his vision dimming as he staggers to the exit with scarcely enough strength in his fingers to switch off the lights.

_It won't be long now, _he thinks,_ before the desire to splay open Tenzou's flesh overtakes me. Though I don't wish to enjoy his torment, it's getting harder to resist the thrill as Hound grows stronger by the minute._

When the sole of his foot makes contact with the cool wood of the hallway, a sensation of pure evil lashes against him, swiftly wrapping itself around his limbs; darkness swallows up his feet and legs, his blue color of his uniform pants taking on the skin-tight look and feel of ANBU blacks. Inch by inch, Hound's animus crawls toward his waist, sucking out what remained of his will as it drags him closer to the living room.

Down and down he sinks into a quagmire of Hounds thoughts and plans.

This battle isn't a physical one- that much Kakashi understands, and yet he digs in his heels as a means of resisting the pull to an invisible scrimmage - hoping the opportunity presents itself for retreat inside a neutral corner of his mind as the icy mesh of savagery hedges about him.

He can feel Hound's presence beside him, the smell of blood so strong in his nostrils he can almost taste it.

_"'I don't know why you bother," _he hears Hound whisper. "_You can't escape me, Kakashi._

_Surrender now, or I __will__ take you by force."_

Striking out with one of the switches, he slices through the hellish mirage. Inside his chest builds the growl of an edacious carnivore; it rumbles as it rises to his throat.

_Shit! I've wasted too much time!_

Emerging from darkness into the light of the living room where Hound stands before a strung up Tenzou, the final jolt of negative energy spears through his body. Hound's miasma drenches him with wave after boiling wave of monomania - indecisiveness rolls away as he takes his place beside Hound even as Tenzou's misty, questioning eyes meet his.

How alluring Tenzou looked, standing there with his arms stretched above his head ... his chest heaving with every burning breath - the muscles in his thighs straining as he shifted his weight from the balls of his feet. And the sight of his cock, so beautifully bound, stirs Kakashi's flagging erection - ignites a sadistic hunger deep within.

_Damn it! It's too late_.

TMTC TMTC

The _swish_ of a willowy cane slicing through the air as Kakashi came down the hall drew Yamato's steady gaze away from the posturing Hound. And at the sound of his captain's deep growl, every escape jutsu he'd memorized and known from his youth mocked him from behind solid iron bars in the prison of his mind.

With just enough slack in the lengths of leather holding him in place, he stood flat on his feet, lowering his arms that the backs of his hands now rest atop his head. This single motion decreased his rib cage's normal expansion and every breath required conscious thought.

When at last he sees Kakashi standing near the entrance of the living room, Yamato finds himself fighting back the urge to vomit, even as his cock swells against its restraints. Terrified as Kakashi strides toward Hound, so tall and proud - the blood cycling through his veins runs cold when his eyes land on the objects Kakashi held.

In his right hand - two switches, freshly skinned and pliable; the crooks of two wickedly thin canes swing from the fingers of his left hand.

_Oh god. I hoped this day would never come, but I've finally pushed him to a point where this was his only option. _

Under his senpai's heated glare, his body warms - his cock perks up as another wave of malice flows from Hound's body.

And as they stand side by side, both Hound and Kakashi's Sharingan open wide - 'the eye that reflects the heart,' reveals nothing but lust … a lust for blood. Six tomoes slowly spin as they record every twitch of his muscles and every bead of perspiration welling up on his skin.

Stunned, he watched Kakashi hand off both a cane and a switch to Hound; horror-struck, he almost swallowed his tongue when he hears Kakashi say:

"The former rules are no longer in effect, Hound-san. You may do as you please."

His brain squeals to a halt as he mouths the words which decline vocalization:

_Kakashi … no … please, don't!_

Behind the canine styled mask, an eerie laugh breaks free, though Hound makes no move to accept the gifts from Kakashi's hand.

"I'm deeply honored," says Hound when he politely bows his head.

"I appreciate your generosity, Kakashi,

but if it's alright with you, I'd rather watch him dance for a while."

Kakashi smiles and dips his head slightly.

"However, since I am at liberty,"

Hound told him as he reached inside his waistband,

"I'm sure the quirt will suit my needs better than those flimsy things."

_This has gone too far; _Yamato thinks as he struggles to free his wrists. _If I don't say or do something now, I'll never bring him back to himself. _The strength and tone of his own voice surprised him.

"For god's sake Kakashi, get a hold of yourself – snap out of it!"

The very second that last syllable flew from his lips, Hound's masked face appeared before his eyes. With the force of a mighty open handed blow, he sees stars as his head snaps to the right.

"You watch your mouth boy," hissed Hound.

"I'm in the game now."

Heedless of Hound's warning, Yamato knew only seconds remained before Kakashi was swallowed whole by Hound's personality.

"Senpai ... I beg you … don't do this!"

From the sneer on Kakashi's lips and the austere look on his face, it was obvious his words were falling on unhearing ears. His heart withered when he saw Kakashi take a step forward and then backward; the hand raised to stop Hound, listlessly dropping back to his side.

_Dear god! I might have stood a fighting chance when Kakashi was in his right mind, but now …_

"Hound-san, kindly step away from him," Kakashi finally said. "I need to answer his plea directly."

Hound jumped back quickly as the sound of a switch screamed through the air; a thin line of incapacitating heat cut into the side of Yamato's left thigh, and as he gasped for breath, the whistle of a cane screeched in his ears seconds before it left a burning welt on the side of his right thigh.

Instinctively, his body folded in upon itself, a sad offensive move to protect himself – but Hound would not let him stay that way for long.

Suddenly, a gloved hand wraps around the front of his throat and his head is forced upward as he fights to breathe; the porcelain mask warmed by Hound's breath presses against Yamato's chilled cheek:

"Don't egg him on boy," whispers Hound,

I'll do my best to make him go easy on you,

but you have to cooperate with me."

"Who's being a pussy now, Hound-san? Don't waste my time trying to protect him from the punishment he deserves," they heard Kakashi say. "Tenzou repeatedly held back information when we gave him ample opportunity to speak … he chose to spit in the face of our generosity. And now, the only fitting reward for his stubbornness ... is pain."

Once more Hound leaps out of the path of the incoming switch - it's tip cuts through the static air, leaving a ruby red line of blinding agony directly above the previous one on his right thigh.

"Sure you don't want to use one of these, Hound-san? I find the switch adds a bit of spice to his otherwise boring dance routine - watch closely," he said as he transfers the remaining implements to his left hand.

All told, four puffy lines of searing red were precisely laid across the front of each thigh.

While Yamato stiffly moved, dancing away the pain, he heard Hound say:

"Hmm … you get a little side to side movement with the switch, but…"

he said as he whipped the quirt's lashes around Tenzou's caged member,

"this brings him up on his toes and makes him arch his back rather handsomely."

"I see," Kakashi said as he laid another stripe across Yamato's thighs. "Let me come at this from a different angle so you can see the little jig he does."

"Here, Kakashi, let me help him get into better position."

That damn bell started ringing again as Hound wrapped the fallen lead around his left hand - he moved swiftly, adjusting the tension on the leather straps secured by the kunai above and the others jammed into the floorboards.

And as Yamato is jerked upright so that he stood on the balls of his feet again, Kakashi stands behind him, his palm lying flat against his kohai's stomach as he runs the fingers over the taut skin of hot, striped buttocks.

In a flash, he'd turned himself that the front of his body was in perfect alignment with Yamato's back.

Anticipation accentuated arousal.

Lost in the sensation of Kakashi's bare chest plastered against his back, so warm and moist from his exertion …the rough cotton material of Kakashi's pants, so coarse against his thighs, and the hardness pushing itself between his burning cheeks, he barely caught the words Kakashi whispered under the shell of his ear:

"Bear with me Tenzou … I have a plan."  
TMTC TMTC

Back and forth, they trade blows - the switch or cane pushing him toward the lashes of Hound's quirt … the quirt's lashes pushing him backward into the arc of the switch or cane.

The intense pain loosened Yamato's tongue and soon he was babbling:

"Kakashi . . . please, sir… I'm ready to talk-"

It was enough to still their arms.

Slender fingers tenderly trace over the rising crisscross welts which left no quarter of his buttocks and thighs untouched.

"Well now Tenzou … that's a bit of a bad timing isn't it? Here you stand, motivated to spill your guts." Once more Kakashi positions himself tightly against Yamato's back – his arms encircle his waist as his left hand floats downward, brushing over his restrained cock.

"And here am I," he said, as his fingers danced upward, stopping only to pinch and twist a hardened nipple. "Fed up with your bullshit and completely unmoved by your sorry ass pleas."

Trapped between the desire for more stimulation, Yamato unashamedly grinds his ass into the growing bulge in Kakashi's pants and in a flash, the quirt's lashes reach between his slightly spread legs. As he slumps forward, he's gasping for breath again when another flurry of strikes land across his buttocks and the backs of his thighs.

"I take back my earlier opinion," says Hound. "He's a pretty good dancer."

"Your presence obviously inspires him to greatness, Hound-san. Now, do stand up correctly, Tenzou … your dance routine is far from over."

The slightest movements provoke the loudest grunts as he repositions himself – immediately the whistle of the cane or a switch, he can no longer distinguish, lays a series of seven more lines across his reddening cheeks.

"We intend to make you thoroughly regret your disobedience, Tenzou," he said as four more strikes land.

Naturally, Hound has to do him one better with the quirt.

A lone teardrop rolls down a sepia cheek and the words tumble from his mouth before he could make sense of them or make them make sense.

"Resting between patrols," he shouted over the music of the switch, the cane and the quirt. "So far away … couldn't sense enemy's presence ... all I could see was Hound's back. He was leaning against a tree … thought he was injured … realized he was taking a piss."

Louder and louder, the switch and cane cut through the air, striking randomly - deeper and deeper, the quirt's lashes bite into the flesh of his bound cock.

"Closed my eyes, started imagining what Hound's cock looked like ... started thinking what it might feel like to hold his . . . your cock in my hands. Wondered what it would feel like … having his cock in my mouth … what it would taste like when he came."

Unbeknownst to Yamato, Hound and Kakashi exchange knowing glances as they continue their barrage.

"Flopped down in the high grasses ... jerked off while I thought about it. Caught up in my imagination … wasn't aware of my surroundings ... when I came… the enemy had me cornered. That's what happened sir … it was stupid ...dangerous ... I'm sorry sir!"

Instantly, the songs of the switch, cane and quirt cease and a gloved finger lifts Yamato's head.  
"Hate to break this to you boy, but what you saw out there was a clone;

I was standing on a tree limb directly above you and I saw everything.

That's right … Kakashi knows all about it too.

What we don't know is _why_ you'd do something that stupid."  
"Your partial confession is out in the open," Kakashi said as he walks toward Hound, "that changes everything. Getting the rest of the story from you will be easier I'm sure"

"In other words, now comes the fun part," Hound said as he slaps the quirt against his palm. "So, is it true …you want me shove my cock down your throat until you choke?"

Still catching his breath, Yamato averts his eyes. _Yes, god yes,_ he wanted desperately to say. _Throat fucked to death ...what a way to go,_ he thought as his eyes skate down and land on the growing bulge inside Hound's pants.

Following the track of his eyes, Kakashi laughed and clapped his arm over Hound's shoulder – his eye hungrily drinking in the sight of Tenzou's pained erection.

"Now, now, Hound-san, let's not tease him. He's already embarrassed and so close to cumming. And yet there's still truth that needs telling ... isn't there, Tenzou?"

The sound of a cane slices through the air once more.

NOTES:

Animus: strong dislike or enmity; hostile attitude.

Edacious: devouring, voracious, consuming.

Miasma: a dangerous, foreboding, or death-like influence.

Monomania: a psychosis characterized by thoughts confined to one idea or group of ideas; an inordinate or obsessive zeal for or interest in a single thing, idea, subject, or the like.

A tomoe is a comma shaped marking within the Sharingan eye- when the wielder of this particular jutsu visually locks onto a target, those comma shaped thingys spin slowly or rapidly to bring a target under hypnotic control.


	11. The Way Back Is The Way Out

A/N: Before we begin, I thank you, dear readers for such an enthusiastic response to another one of my twisted tales. Your encouragement warms my heart and makes my fingers fly over the keyboard. I'm honored and grateful for your support. Thank you so very much.

"Yes, Senpai … there _is_ more," he heard himself say.

A limbic system in limbo – a mental power outage, where communications are jammed between sensory and motor neurons; it was an effect of the Sharingan he'd heard tell of, yet never before experienced. More powerful than a kamikaze, his body awash in the frothy foam of endorphins and dopamine, the sensations of relief, cleansing and rejuvenation link arms with a haunting sense of loss, a gritty feeling of filthiness and an uncomfortable wooziness as he leans against the leather leads for support.

Pride and a sense of accomplishment hopscotch through his muscles, granting him strength to grab hold the overhead restraints as he pulls himself up to his full height.

One minute he's congratulating himself for enduring thus far … and in the span of a blink, he's berating himself for having enjoyed what they'd dished out - loathing the neediness within that begged for more.

Led on a chivy by the charmingly schizophrenic Kakashi, he'd given himself over to the continued euphoric symphony of the high pitched whistles of the switch and cane and the piercing swipes of the quirt. In anticipation of reward, he dares initiate eye contact - first with Kakashi and then with Hound's static mask as they stand before him … the implements of correction, loosely held in their hands as they return his confused glare. Their respective Sharingan, skipping over the goosebumps rising under his skin ... storing images of his body into their collective memory bank.

From the beginning and up to this point in the helter-skelter excursion of sensations, the singular emotion of fear remained consistent – he knew a pause in the action didn't mean cessation of punishment, especially since Hound was _'in the game.'_

_So, this what insanity feels like_, he inwardly laughed. _Now if only I could stop myself from talking so much … I'd be golden._

It was but a pipe dream, for the hypnotic power of the Sharingan had already broken open the fount of truth; without his consent, penetralia of his thought life bubbled up unexpectedly … gushing forth unrestrained both for Kakashi's inspection and Hound's disparagement.

_No matter_, he comforted himself when he sucked in another breath. _From tonight onward, I'm a free man… the burden of hiding my feelings will no longer weigh me down. _And with that thought, the shaky smile on his lips grows broader.

"This last mission," he began, "with our targets inactive for so many hours on end, my mind wandered. I knew Hound was conducting surveillance … I knew I was _safe …_ knew I had to do something to relieve the boredom."

There was an irritated yank on the length of leather attached to his cock and balls which set that wretched bell ringing again as Hound's laughter floated to the rafters.

"I made you feel _safe _huh? What the hell is with you, boy?

After all this time," he said as the quirt slashed through the air, why is that

you still refuse to see me as the monster that I am?"

His aim was unerring and vicious, striking at an untouched area on the underside of his balls, but this time when his legs gave way, Kakashi was there - a warm arm wrapping around his waist, holding him close to his body. Incredible as that was, right smack in the center of his captain's eye, Yamato saw a flicker of the mercy he wanted … needed beforetime.

He's shaking his head slowly, unable to suppress the motion; his tongue, thick and heavy, his voice raspy as he slurs the words which once for all rejects the mercy he assumed Kakashi was offering.

"Not a monster, Hound-taichou," he said. "I know you, sir … I trust you."

"And I know you too, foolish boy …

you're a pathetic excuse for a shinobi,

just like your spineless leader."

The warmth of his captain's body clings to him still, even as Kakashi backs away; maintaining his silence, he watches Yamato writhe and shimmy when the quirt's lashes repeatedly strike at their chosen targets.

When he senses his body can take no more, Kakashi suddenly reaches out, catching the lashes in mid-arc.

"I believe you've made your point, Hound-san," he calmly says. "That's enough; Tenzou's obviously punchy … doesn't know what he's saying."

A brief struggle ensues for control over the quirt and from where he's standing, Yamato can feel the shaking of their arms as they play tug of war with the little leather whip; he also senses a reawakening of something in Kakashi … determination?

Enraged Kakashi durst interrupt his fun and most unwilling to cede his dominance, Hound violently tugged at the leash wrapped around his other fist.

"Let's be clear about one thing," he snarled.

"I don't give a damn about you, _Tenzou_.

Saving my ass is the only thing that matters.

Are we finally understood, boy?"

Above the maddening sound of his heart shattering and that freaking bell, a timid "Yes, sir," was heard.

This time, since Kakashi wasn't there to prop him up when the lashes licked at his swollen shaft, Yamato hung his head in the locks of his shoulders as his body wilted.

**TMTC TMTC**

When at last the noise of the bell ceased and the heaviness of the weights eased, Yamato caught snippets of their angry whispers between his ragged breathing; it wasn't enough to know exactly what they were plotting, but there was an edge to Kakashi's voice, a curtness which suggested Hound's influence over him was weakening.

And after much effort to lift his head, he's relieved to see the scowl crumbling from Kakashi's face when the shutter of a pale eyelid hides his Sharingan.

"Tenzou, we're agreed … what you did was remarkably selfish and -"

"Yes ... I know, Kakashi-senpai. That's why I was willing to accept whatever discipline you dictated-"

"_Willing to accept?" _Hound snorts, as he pushed Kakashi from his side.

_"Selfish? _Is that all it was?"

Gliding from Kakashi's side and directly into Yamato's personal space Hound stood before him - his chest puffed out and fists grinding into his hips, he growled,

"What you did boy, is called _dereliction of duty_.

Runnin' off to pleasure yourself during a recon mission …

it's the same as treason in my book."

"Settle down," Kakashi chided. "It isn't as if we were at war, Hound-san."

Whirling about, his voice reaching outside the mask - grabbing hold of Kakashi's nonexistent collar, he spat:

"I put my life on the line shielding this nimrod!

Nah," he said, advancing on Kakashi,

"he owes me and I'm gonna make him pay."

Yamato counted himself fortunate - Hound couldn't see how his voice and body language affected him - shivering with want, his toes curling as they scrabbled for traction on the smooth floorboards, he was a steaming hot mess. Add to that, he was fully aware that his body was completely exposed to Kakashi's roaming eye. That steely gaze, which held a mixture of anger and curiosity, set his ass cheeks clenching, his waning energy channeled into staving off impending ejaculation.

"Mind you now, I understand where you're coming from too," was Kakashi's cool response to the agitated Hound. "But according to peacetime rules, discipline lies in the hands of the squad leaders. The wrong Tenzou committed was addressed … he's been punished enou -"

"Fuck you Kakashi!

You're acting as if he's some hot blooded teenager

that can't control himself!"

Something about seeing the quirt's lashes swinging wildly as Hound gestured toward him prompted Yamato to speak up.

"You're right ... Hound-taichou … I knew better." Words clawed at his throat, demanding immediate exit as Hound turned to face him. "Had you reported this … incident to the Hokage, my fate would have been far worse."

Still seething, Hound haughtily retook his place beside his captain, though not before bumping his shoulder into Kakashi's chest when he turned about.

"Your kohai is smarter than he looks," he muttered.

"Wish I could say the same for you … jackass."

Marginally lifting his head, his vision still blurry, Yamato stared at what he hoped were the static red lines on Hound's mask. "But there's something else," he breathed, "something about the two of you that drives me … makes me -"

"Hold it! You tryin' to say it's _our_ fault

you can't keep your dick in your pants, boy?"

"No, sir … it's a personality flaw - a defect if you will. A fault that led me to petition the Sandaime ... I wanted ... needed transfer from under your command."

Another sharp jerk of the leash left him panting.

"Aww ... poor little _Tenzou …_

wants us to feel sorry for him,

because he's the only shinobi in this village

with a fucked up personality."

"I think the pot just called the skillet black," quipped Kakashi. "Alright now, Hound-san you've had your fun … let's get him untied."

"That's it? We're done?"

Kakashi, who was starting to look and act more like himself, simply folded his arms across his chest and nodded. "Tenzou's stubborn, he's flippant and at times, he's downright recalcitrant … but he never lies. So yes, Hound-san ... I believe our work here is done."

The quiet shift in authority was almost like watching a spoiled child whose favorite toy was snatched away. Hound tucked his hands under his armpits and cut his eyes at Kakashi. It was hard to difficult to discern whether this was part of their scheme or if Hound was buying time … waiting for an opportunity to overthrow Kakashi.

"You're making a huge mistake," he huffed.

Letting him off this easily is gonna come back to bite you in the butt … you'll see."

"On the contrary Hound-san. We can't very well enjoy the rest of our fun if he's strung up like a Christmas goose, now can we?"

"Wanna bet?"

**TMTC TMTC**

In one swift movement, Hound dropped the end of the leash and stuffed the quirt's handle inside his waistband. Stepping around Kakashi and grumbling under his breath, he stood before the juncture where the restraints met.

"Better get in front of him,

or he'll fall flat on his face when I cut him loose."

Freedom … nearer than it had ever been, sent Yamato's emotions into a tail spin, but Hound's next move damn near stopped his heart.

With Kakashi drawing closer, Hound flipped up his mask, removing it completely as he allowed its straps to dangle over the quirt's lashes.

Yamato couldn't breathe … wasn't sure if he ever needed to again.

As Hound stood there, a look of sheer concentration on his face while he studied the restraints and Kakashi within arm's reach wearing a faint smile on his lips – it was too much visual stimulation for his mind to process.

Once more, long held secrets spilled from his lips.

"Until I met you Kakashi-senpai … I lived a sheltered life; I was young, impressionable ... distrustful of anyone wanting to befriend me for who I was and not just for what I could do -"

"Shush now, Tenzou," Kakashi said. We'll have plenty of time for -"

"No," he said sharply shaking his head. "No, sir… have to get this off my chest … no more secrets!"

He closes his eyes as Kakashi cups his chin, leaning into the gentle touch of the thumb stroking across his lips. "You spared my life, not once, but twice after my orders conflicted with yours, Senpai. After that, my respect for you grew … I valued your friendship … was grateful for the lessons you taught me in battle … and in life. I admired you as well, Hound-taichou," he called out to the man fumbling with the restraints. "But as I got older ... my feelings for you and Hound-san veered off in a weird direction."

Looking up from his work, Hound chuckled, saying:

"It's a common psychosis known as hero worship;

happens to us all the time, doesn't it Kakashi?"

Though Kakashi disregarded Hound's boastful claim, Yamato could feel it, something stirring in the air around his captain; the shudder that raced through his captain's body as Hound teased … was frightening. He could see it … and it gave him pause, it was as if the fog in Kakashi's mind was dissipating as Hound's control over him slipped a few notches.

Looking deeply into Kakashi's eye, making note of the alterations in his breathing, Yamato whispered, "Back then, I was afraid …afraid if I told you how I felt … you'd ridicule me. Scared to death… if I told I needed to get away from you … you'd hate -"

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Hound yelled.

"You're making me sick to my stomach!"

Wiping away a tear from the corner of his kohai's eye, Kakashi lowered his voice saying, "We haven't much time."

They were standing so close now ... he could feel Kakashi digging around for something inside his front pants pocket.

"Tenzou, you have to snap out of it. It's imperative you trust me and do as I ask quickly."

No sooner than Yamato opened his mouth to respond, Kakashi slipped two objects between his parted lips. From the bitter taste of the first one, he realized it was a powerful chakra restorative pill. The second one, overly sweet, was a food pill, also laced with chakra and stamina enhancers. Though his addled brain couldn't understand why Kakashi would mix these two extremely potent medications, Yamato happily swallowed them down dry.

"Hound-san," Kakashi said over his shoulder. "In the spirit of fairness, don't you think it's time we tell _him_ the truth too?"

Winding another length of leather around his hand, Hound glanced up at them saying,

"Long as I get what I want,

I don't give a damn what you do."

With Hound's fixation on recompense, time was Kakashi's fiercest foe – no quarter was there left for miscalculations.

"It was me, Tenzou," he said, "I asked Lady Tsunade to pair us up for this mission. I had to know whether my feelings had changed over the years."

His mind still a sloppy, soupy mix, Yamato cocked his head to the side. "Sir?"

Try as he might, Kakashi couldn't look into those questioning brown eyes just now … couldn't blurt out the words still forming in his mind. A furtive glance cast over his shoulder at the sound of thick leather zipping through a D-ring while Hound hurried through his tasks … the pained look on Tenzou's face, when the pull across his shoulders was lessened and the agony of waiting for those military ration pills to have an effect – these combined concerns found release through a deep, weary sigh.

"When you came from the Foundation… you already had impressive ninjutsu and taijutsu skills… nothing more to teach you in that regard. I'd already vouched for your trustworthiness and the Sandaime seemed to think we'd work well together. But I knew there were some … ingrained behavioral traits I had to help you get rid of; things that would have hindered your growth as a shinobi."

He was holding Yamato's head upright with both hands now, physically forcing him to focus.

"Back then, I always made sure to correct you publicly or at least, somewhere within the confines of ANBU headquarters. It wasn't that I wanted to humiliate you … though I'm sure I did. It was more like I couldn't trust …"

Lowering his gaze, his jaw tense, Kakashi swallowed hard and continued, "what I'm trying to say is -I was afraid too, Tenzou," he whispered. "I was afraid of myself and … what I was capable of."

"Think we can speed this soap opera up a bit?" Hound wondered aloud,

"I can feel the bile backing up in my gut."

Kakashi bit back a laugh as his hold on his kohai's jaws lightened. Gone was the timidity of moments past as he lifted his head. "Tenzou, you remember the times when I brought you back here … for more …intensive correction?"

Confused, Yamato nodded his head.

"I brought you into my home because … I needed a plausible reason to see you … naked, ashamed – aroused. I had to give myself an excuse … and freedom to run my hands over your body -"

"I swear to the gods," Hound chimed in as he knelt before one of the kunai.

"If you keep blowing smoke up his ass, I'm gonna blow chunks any second.

Listen up, _Tenzou …_ here's the deal.

I wanted to keep you on as my little fuck toy…

but he wouldn't let me - claimed it would confuse you.

See, even back then, Kakashi knew you preferred me over him

and damned if your actions didn't reinforce that truth tonight."

"Yes, well, it all sounds pretty ridiculous when it's said aloud," added Kakashi with a hollow laugh, "but that's how I felt … back then."

"See … your captain never liked the idea of competition," said Hound while he slowly released the tension which kept Yamato's right arm aloft.

"Especially when said competition is a part of himself."

The heavy leather leads slap down against the floor and Yamato's left arm flops to his side when he staggers into Kakashi's embrace.

"It's true, Tenzou, I always knew how you felt about us. But I chose to believe it was nothing more than a crush one develops on their mentor." Dropping his gaze to the floor again, Kakashi continued, "I went through a similar phase with my first team leader, Minato-sensei. And like it had with me, I knew your adolescent crush would soon pass."

Yamato's bound wrists are the only things separating their bodies now, as Kakashi hugs him closer.

"Somewhere along the path of life, however, I realized what I felt for you went beyond physical and sexual attraction. That's what scared me most."

On the other side of the room, Hound was making retching noises while he gathered up the additional restraints and shoved them back inside the abandoned utility pouch.

That little speech wasted just enough time for the chakra enhancements to kick in properly and as they did, Yamato felt the veracity of his captain's words working their way into his heart. Clarity of mind came with a price –intensification of the pain. It was brief and easily ignored as he felt his body melting into Kakashi's.

"Because I knew and understood how you felt, Tenzou, I couldn't bring myself to touch you in an overtly sexual way," Kakashi whispered beside his ear. "Desire for you aside, it was my responsibility to prevent anyone from taking advantage of you … even if," he said inclining his head toward Hound, "even if that _anyone_ happened to be me."

Firm hands gripped him by the shoulders, allowing Kakashi to look him straight in the eye when he said, "Know this, Tenzou. These last twelve years … I never stopped thinking about you … never stopped inquiring after your progress and well-being."

That was as close to a confession of love as Yamato would get outside of a deathbed or in the dust of a battlefield. He'd take it. It was a confirmation he didn't realize he needed until now. He'd cling to it for dear life.

In one breath, Kakashi's words sopped up and completely obliterated twelve years of longing, loneliness and regret.

"Well then," he said as he blotted away beads of sweat aiming to obscure Yamato's vision, "now that we've thoroughly embarrassed ourselves and sickened Hound, let's get you out these other wrappings."

Dropping down to one knee, he quickly released the weights attached to the lead, casting them aside with a tiny growl. He took his time releasing the binds around Yamato's wrists, massaging and manipulating his fingers until normal circulation returned.

But once freed, Yamato wasn't sure what to do with his hands; standing at attention with his arms by his sides seemed ridiculous at this point. Knowing Hound would react violently if he felt Kakashi was being touched inappropriately, Yamato kept his eyes on the grumbling Hound as he moved about the room, returning the implements to their proper places in the box near where the chair once sat.

He boldly reached out, letting his palms rest atop Kakashi's shoulders.

"I'm gonna shift my position a bit," Kakashi said. "Sure you'll be able to stand on your own, Tenzou?"

"I … I don't think so, sir."

Again, Kakashi moved slowly, this time freeing him from the improvised cage.

"Hound rightly said earlier that I wouldn't allow sexual relations between us … it wasn't because I didn't find you attractive … but, I was afraid of … forming another attachment to anyone back then. Lost too many friends over the years," he said as his warm hands gently ran along the folds of Yamato's cock and balls. "Couldn't handle losing someone else … I cared for."

While his body thrust his hips forward, his mind screamed that he had to pull away or he'd never live down the embarrassment. In the end, he held back mid thrust mumbling, "Umm …. Kakashi-senpai? Maybe you shouldn't … do this … right now … not sure if I can-"

"Don't you want to cum, Tenzou?"

"Yes sir, but-"

"Then shut up and let me do this."

Yamato was sure he'd bite a hole in his cheek if he kept watching that slender, ivory hand knead his flesh, but he was far too mesmerized by the sight of the purpled head of his cock, disappearing and reappearing each time Kakashi stroked his red striped shaft. And though he desperately wanted to keep his eyes open, emblazoning the image of Kakashi's smug grin in the forefront of his mind, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Hound again – this time he was standing stock still, equally transfixed while he rubbed the quirt's lashes over his own erection.

That was the tipping point.

Bronzed fingers tangled in a soft nest of silvery strands, not wanting to interrupt the rhythm of the deft fingers stroking his cock and gently squeezing his balls, but at the precise moment when Kakashi licked his lips - everything went brilliant white before his eyes. As his nails dug into his captain's scalp … his balls, unbearably seize up as creamy ropes of ejaculate shoot over and dribble down his captain's shoulder.

The scream of release wrenched from his throat, sounded more like it came from a wild animal as his knees buckled.

And when at last he opened his eyes, his cheek rested against chiseled pectorals.

"Better now?" Kakashi asked against the crown of his head.

Three attempts to stand upright fail miserably and whatever it was that he murmured, set Kakashi's chest shaking with laughter.

He's firmly on his feet now with his body pressed as close as he can get to Kakashi and like a sleepy cat, Yamato inches closer still, until his chin hooks over the ledge of a warm shoulder, his head lolling beside the strong column of his captain's neck.

Right now he can count every small callous … feel every tiny loop and whorl of the fingers skipping over the skin on his back – he can describe in detail every contour and every pulsation of the hardness pressing into his belly and yet ... he couldn't remember his own name even if his life depended on it.

Warm breaths ruffle his hair when their contact is temporarily broken – the same measured breaths alight on his lips for a split second when Kakashi timidly kisses him.

And as their lips part, his captain whispers a command that was at once inconceivable and terrifying.

"It's the only way out, Tenzou," he said.

"Don't overthink it – just be prepared to follow my orders."

Notes:

Kamikaze: (Japanese) – meaning "divine wind."

Penetralia: the most private or secret things; the innermost parts or recesses of a place or thing.

Chivy: (British) – to run about, to chase.

Beforetime: (archaic) – formerly.

Durst: (archaic) – have necessary courage for something.

Stubborn: unreasonably obstinate, fixed; resolute.

Recalcitrant: resisting authority, not obedient or compliant; hard to deal with.

Flippant: frivolously disrespectful, lacking in seriousness; characterized by levity.

Pretty sure you don't care about all this jazz, but I have to get it out of my head. The limbic system is a network of the brain's structures involved in emotion, learning and memory. Basically, it operates by influencing the endocrine and autonomic nervous systems; it's interconnected with the brain's pleasure center which plays a major role in sexual arousal. Endorphins (molecules, neuropeptides, or nature's morphine), inhibit the transmission of pain signals and produce a feeling of euphoria – dopamine which is a neurotransmitter, plays a critical role in the function of the central nervous system. It's linked to the brain's complex system of motivation, reward and the behaviors associated with anticipation of reward.


	12. The Passion and Peril of Turnabout -Pt 1

Would that he could remain like this ... just a while longer.

His reality altered as the silken strands of redemption and release bound them closer, their breaths and heartbeats in sync and time's passage measured by the click of Hound's strident footfalls. His fantasy disrupted as the soldier pills worked their magic - physiologically energizing him, burning away the mental fog and providing strength to his wobbly legs. The chest pressed against his rises and falls as the voice beside his ear murmurs … the words spoken, he caught but a few as Kakashi cuts asunder their sweaty connection.

"Sure you won't tip over when I let go, Tenzou?"

He was certain he'd barked out a cavalier laugh and said 'yes,' or at least he meant to - it was hard to concentrate, what with Kakashi coyly smiling at him as he held him at arm's length and Hound coldly glaring while he stalked the length and breadth of the room.

_Amazing how the truth works, _he thought, his eyes following the curve of Hound's ass when he stormed off to a far corner of the room.

Truth was, though Kakashi and Hound shared the same body, which he craved, the scales of his favor always dipped toward Hound and the raw sexuality he embodied. It was an ugly truth which Hound rubbed in his face tonight and an undeniable verity which sparked jealousy in Kakashi.

_What was I thinking? Hound never could be trusted, especially when an opportunity comes along to inflict pain._

And for the first time in memory, when the pangs of disgust and loathing rev up his pulse, their target this time was the unmasked man pacing toward the mouth of the hallway; with his hands clasped behind his back and his scowl deepening with each step, Yamato knew that smoke screen of Hound's charade was soon to blow over or blow up. And when it did even Kakashi wouldn't be safe. Knowing Hound as well as he did, he could feel that in abeyance his fury lay … weakened somehow … but certainly not yet satiated.

For countless years he'd tolerated Hound's complete disregard for his comfort and privacy … he'd swallowed down the contempt behind his actions and drank down every one of his arsenic laced words, believing it was only what he deserved. And yet when Yamato looked deeply into his captain's eye, the twinkle of kindness he saw there made him realize what a fool he'd been.

_Kakashi ... he was always the one who stimulated and engaged my mind - he was the one who stepped outside his comfort zone, slowly drawing back the curtain and letting me witness the 'whys' and 'wherefores' which drive his actions. _

_Ah, but Hound, damn it … he's the pebble dropped into in the deep, still and murky waters of my soul, the mediator of confusion and frustration betwixt our tortured souls; me and Kakashi, prisoners of algolagnia and Hound ... the prize I'll never possess._

An expected side effect of the soldier pills left him trembling, not with fear, but rage for ever having doubted his captain.

"Settle down now, Tenzou, I'm sure we're all anxious for the next step," Kakashi said, his fingers lightly brushing over the raised stripes on his kohai's thigh, "but these need tending to first."

"Leave it till later," Hound turned and growled. "Pain … it'll help him remember his transgression … 'sides, he aint bleedin' that much."

"His skin's broken, Hound-san. I promise, I'm more concerned about preventing infection than I am about lessening his pain," Kakashi replied, when the specialized ANBU medical scroll slips from his fingers. With a small pop of chakra, the scroll fluttered to the ground, unfurling at Yamato's feet, its surface lined with neat rows of salves, jars of creams and vials of oils.

Bending down to retrieve one of the small blue jars, Kakashi warned, "This particular ointment is gonna burn like hell. Might want to brace yourself. Meanwhile … mind fetching the chair for me, Hound-san?"

If looks really could kill, Kakashi would fallen dead the end of that sentence – for the smokescreen was lifting, revealing Hound as the monster he professed being.

Metal spikes claw at the floorboards when he stomps toward the kitchen. "All this kindness bullshit is getting tiresome, Kakashi," he spat. The chair, its wood splintering under the force of Hound's boot, crazily spun to a halt near the utility pouch. "How much longer you gonna make me wait?"

The smug little smile, and slowly raised eyebrow Kakashi gave when he turned to face his alter ego drove Hound further into the kitchen, cursing up a storm as he traversed over the linoleum tiles.

**TMTC TMTC TMTC TMTC**

A few minutes or perhaps it was an hour later, Yamato couldn't tell … didn't care to know as he watched Kakashi kneel before him, his hands gingerly slathering the front and sides of his thighs with a thick yellow salve.

"Now isn't the time for second thoughts, Tenzou," he whispered. "We both know Hound's ready to snap and I need to know that you're going back me up."

"Are you sure this is the only way, Kakashi?"

"Guess we'll find out at the same time, Tenzou."

The fact that Hound had gone quiet after disappearing inside the kitchen combined with the slight tremors he felt in the hand gliding over his flesh gave Yamato hope that Hound at last was defeated and the process of reabsorption into Kakashi's body was underway.

He was nervously weaving to and fro, trying not to laugh or blush while his captain applied cream to his tender scrotum, when regretfully he heard Kakashi say:

"There, that oughta do it."

Kakashi seemed unsteady as he rose, hesitant as walked to where the chair crookedly sat, and downright nervous when he took his seat. Soon afterward, he was all smiles and sunny confidence when he patted his thigh, the unspoken signal for Yamato to drape himself across his lap.

"But sir, I thought -"

"Your punishment_ is_ over … come along now, over you go. I wanna take care of those welts on your butt and the backs of your thighs."

"Ah, for crap's sake," Hound snapped when he emerged from the other room. "Don't tell me you're gonna heal him, are you?"

"Of course not - I'm just making things easier for us," he said, repositioning Yamato's body so that one of his legs was now straddling his captain's knee.

"Hold your temper Hound-san and think about this. Suppose Lady Tsunade notices Tenzou's gap-legged gait, or what if she sees him having difficulty sitting down and getting up? Can you imagine how she'll react when we she realizes we didn't follow regulations, opting for a hot soak instead of trotting off to the hospital for a post mission check-up?" Noting Hound's sour reaction, he hastened to add, "Perhaps, you'd like the honor of explaining our rationale to her?"

"Sounds like a job you'll have to tackle all by yourself … _Captain."_

Yamato stifled down a laugh; his body flinching when he saw the tips of Hound's boots approaching the chair's leg.

"As for me," said Hound, grabbing a fistful of Yamato's hair and yanking his head up, "I'm tired of waiting for you to get your shit together, Kakashi.

My fun starts right now."

**TMTC TMTC TMTC TMTC**

Yamato had but a moment to look up into those handsomely deranged eyes, before his face was smashed against the black fabric of Hound's crotch. His breathing hitched up a notch when Hound's thick, semi hard cock rubbed itself over his lower lip and when the earthy scent of arousal wriggled itself into his nostrils, Yamato briefly struggled as his own cock violently jerked against Kakashi's inner thigh.

"How 'bout it, boy? You were so curious to examine me earlier," said Hound while he wrestled with his zipper, "Go on then, show me what a good little cocksucker you are."

_Shit! After that big talk about wanting this, I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do now!_

"_Oh please, as if we've never had a blow job before," _pooh-poohed his brain. 

_"Mimic what the bathhouse whores do to you and if Hound doesn't like it, he'll let you know."_

Immediately, Yamato arched his back, eschewing the awkwardness of his position, he steadied himself with his palm against the floor and reached out with his other hand, tentatively grabbing hold of Hound's cock; his tongue instinctively flickered out, catching up droplets of pre-cum like a cat having its first taste of cream. And before he could stop himself, his mouth opened wider … his hand slid down to the base of Hound's cock that he might draw him in deeper.

Admittedly, things were a bit clumsy; between fighting back an overactive gag reflex each time Hound thrust into his mouth and fretting if his technique was correct, but in the end, it didn't matter. Hound seemed to appreciate his amateurish attempts, responding with longer intervals between thrusts. Recalling what he'd done when forced to clean Hound's glove with his tongue, Yamato relaxed his throat, and sucked harder, his tongue enfolding the hard cock sliding backward and forward over the slippery convex surface.

And as his spent cock reawakens with vigor, it seemed as if Hound's moderately paced thrusts over his tongue were spurring Kakashi into deeper exploration.

Add to that, the cool almond scented oil Kakashi was spreading over his buttocks and thighs did have a numbing effect, which eased the slight burn when his slender finger breached Yamato's unprotected rearguard.

By now, though Yamato desperately longed to stroke himself – he resisted the urge for fear they'd stop.

Suddenly, a gloved palm slapped against the nape of his neck seconds before Hound's thrusts became quicker and more forceful. And without warning, Kakashi withdrew his finger that he might add another ... massaging, searching, filling him.

Embarrassment leapt out of the way of his voracious libido when the tempo of Kakashi's fingers inside him changed; it took a few seconds before his mind registered the fact that Kakashi had slipped his other hand down and now, he was firmly stroking his cock while he crooked the fingers inside him upward.

Pushing back on the fingers which kept bypassing that ultra-sensitive spot just a bit deeper inside, Yamato felt himself edging toward his second orgasm of the night. And he was happily caught off guard when said orgasm steamrolled over him … but there was little time granted to enjoy afterglow, for a nanosecond later, hot, spicy spurts of Hound's cum shot down his throat.

As soon as his mouth went slack, Hound stepped away, his laughter derisive between heavy breaths. Once more the hand wrapped around a goodly amount of his hair yanked his head upward.

"You need more practice, boy," he said as he tucked himself in and zipped up. "You got the job done, but next time, I expect much better."

Wiping away the last traces of jizz from his lips with the back of his hand, the retort he so wanted to give was fortunately cut short when Kakashi shouted:

"Now, Tenzou! Do it now!"

**TMTC TMTC TMTC TMTC**

It took a second to catch his breath … and another one to see the look of confused anger flashing over Hound's face - then he watched, transfixed by the speed at which tendrils of wood snaked through the finger grips of the kunai still embedded in the floor, trapping Hound's limbs with the suddenness of a striking cobra.

"The fuck are you doing, boy?"

"Following the orders of my captain, _sir._"

"That's right Hound-san," Kakashi said with a measure of pride. Gently rolling Yamato from his lap that he might stand, he added, "There isn't gonna be a 'next' time. As a matter of fact, you've already overstayed your welcome, Hound-san."

From his front pocket, Kakashi drew the final scroll and Hound's eye widened in fear.

In his lifetime, Yamato had seen Hound do many things, but never before had he seen him recoil in terror, from anything or anyone. Whatever this thing was that Kakashi held in hand was powerful enough to put the fear of god in Hound and that was saying something.

"Are you outta your damn mind?" Hound shouted as he tried in vain to free himself. "You know that thing will shorten our life, right? Damn it, Kakashi, think about what you're doing -!"

"I've been doing nothing but thinking, Hound-san."

Rising, Yamato intended to stand behind Kakashi, to present a unified front against their enemy; that was the plan, until a wave of Hound's fury physically pushed him backward. Falling to the floor, he could do nothing but sit there quietly as Kakashi kneels and lays the now open scroll at Hound's feet.

"It's for the best, Hound-san … now, either you go back to where you belong by choice, or I will use force."

This time, Hound literally spits in Kakashi's face.

"Don't you dare throw my words back in my face, asshole!"

Looking away from the spittle glistening as it clings to Hound's chin to where it slithers down Kakashi's cheek, Yamato realizes his captain was struggling to stand to his feet - the slow drain on his chakra left him with his head bowed and his eyes fighting to remain open; once sure fingers, now clumsily move through the hand signs necessary for activation of the jutsu formula contained in the scroll. He knew then that he had to do move quickly or else Hound would surely break free.

In the blink of an eye, he's standing by Kakashi's side – their point of contact burning as he forcibly channels his own chakra into his captain's body; his hand, shaky against the chilly skin between Kakashi's shoulder blades as raw power flows through him.

Almost immediately, the imprinted seals leap from the scroll with a frightening howling noise, attaching themselves at various points along the wooden tendrils. Petrified, Yamato watches Hound's body convulse and the screams of Hound's pain when the seals elongate and anchor themselves into the floor, set his teeth on edge.

One final shout … one last curse erupts from the lips of the being Yamato idolized,

as the man he once believed indestructible, withers in a dead faint.

Kakashi too looks as if he'll fall over from the exertion; an unshed tear welling up, ready to spill as he watched a part of himself crumple and die.

In the stillness, at last Yamato finds his voice. "Senpai," he breathes, "is he … are you gonna be alright?"

It took a while before he answered, before the shell of his grief finally cracked – when it did, Kakashi threw his arm over his kohai's shoulder, a wan smile on his lips.

"He'll be fine, Tenzou. I'm a little weak, but I believe I'll survive." His voice, now a hoarse, halting breath, softly teases, "I think we can both do with a lie down, what do you think?"

As they sway and stumble from the living room, their arms linked around the other's waists for support, his captain sweeps his hand over one light switch, which leaves Hound in utter darkness; with a flick of his wrist, the other switch provides dim illumination within the hallway.

Kakashi was much paler than usual … his pulse, slow and his eye vacant. It was frightening how frail and worn he looked. "I don't care what you say, Kakashi, you need to go to the hospital."

Another moment's hesitation, a backward glance cast over their shoulders and Kakashi leaned more of his weight onto Yamato. "You worry too much," he said, "and I don't worry enough. Just let me get a few hours of rest ... and I promise ... I'll be back to normal before you know it."

"Just a few hours," he said, trying to keep his voice light and jovial while shaking his finger at his captain. "Afterwards, if you still look like reheated death, I swear, Kakashi, I'll drag you to the hospital by your nuts."

"Hmm … that does sound tempting, though I'd rather you cooked up a more creative and less violent way to handle my nuts, Tenzou."

**TMTC TMTC TMTC TMTC**

As the door to Kakashi's bedroom clicks closed, inside the dark living room comes the sound of sparking electricity … the wrath of the Raikiri, illumines the tiny pitch black room as Hound's eyes snap open … the blood red Sharingan glowing as his body jerks to life.

Soon thereafter, the low, maniacal laughter of a madman splashes against and shakes the drywall ... the entire room shudders with the power of his wrath.

Brighter and brighter grows the eerie light now emanating from the whole of his body; slowly, the tendrils of wood quake and smolder, the seals sizzle, their edges curling.

"I'll get you for this you bastards!" He whispers against the weighty blackness of his confinement.

"This aint over until I say it's over."

Notes:

Abeyance: temporary inactivity, cessation, or suspension.

Algolagnia: sexual pleasure derived from enduring or inflicting pain, as in masochism or sadism.


End file.
